


Begin to Begin Again

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Road Trips, non-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7351852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after Supernatural ends, Jensen realizes that his job isn’t the only thing missing. He’s divorced, a lame-duck father, and living alone. He wakes often from long-ago memories of the boots and leather jacket he filled out back when he had purpose, dreams of the connection he had with the one who stood beside him through it all. When Jensen finds a spark of himself while reconnecting with his daughter, he is determined to make this new feeling stick with a cross-country trek in the driver's seat of the Impala.</p><p>Even as he’s weighted down by his own growing pains post-Supernatural, Jared meets Jensen in middle of Michigan, and they both dive into the same luxurious dream of seeing the country with nothing but time and pavement ahead of them. As Jensen and Jared rediscover themselves and their friendship, they uncover more between them that awakens buried feelings and lights a fire between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> _Written for 2016_
> 
>  
> 
> Check out [beelikej's](http://beelikej.livejournal.com/) super beautiful art post with fun road trip art!! [Art Post](http://beelikej.livejournal.com/498046.html)

The clock reads 6:32am. Red little sticks crafting time in a way he could never replicate. Not in this life on the road without more than a few hours of sleep, which is all it seems he’s able to get with Sam putzing around the room, making just enough noise to be annoying.

"What's up?" he asks while shifting over on the sagging mattress. Which could also be the cause of being so tired. 

"Couldn't sleep," Sam replies as he sits at the tiny dinette table. It's far too small for any group of guests, not to mention people as big as Sam. "Figured I'd get some more research in while Sleeping Beauty napped."

He grumbles. "Real cute." Rolls completely off the bed and plants two feet firmly on the ground before stretching up and out. The creaking in his bones speaks of his dreary and endless life on the road. But it's a little worth it when he exits the bathroom after a steaming shower to an equally hot cup of coffee waiting for him. 

Along with his brother's "so get this..."

A sharp ding wakes him, but he's alone this time. And the bed is solid beneath him, the sheets soft and cool and crisply white in a way no hotel is.

His face is half buried in an equally bright pillowcase as he smells the cleanliness of the pillows and the sheets, the room, and even _himself_. 

A second sharp ding forces him to move. He reaches for his phone and reads the awaiting text with only one eye open. 

**Coming down soon? Kids still ask for unkie. 13 and Shep's still got a soft spot for ya**

His hands press into the pillow top so he can get a good glance around the room and it's all familiar now. Not just this bedroom with its simple, yet sleek modern art on all four walls, streaks of blue and grey, brown and green. 

This dread spilling into his gut is familiar, too, as he recognizes he's not in that life. The _old_ life where he was well-fed, on a higher track of living, and where he formed an extraordinary friendship with the guy on the other end of that message.

His fingers fumble to answer the text without raising suspicions. 

**On the schedule for plannin**

With that, he slides the phone beneath the stack of pillows on the empty side of the bed and buries himself under the comforters again. 

He hears the dings of Jared’s replies, but chooses to ignore them for now. More sleep is on the agenda.

“Doorbell!!” The yell can be heard through the big oak door and Jensen stands a little straighter. He tries on a smile and scrapes a few fingers through his hair. Another shout rings out and he shakes his head at the image of Danneel with her hands full and JJ stuck in the corner of the cream sectional couch where she’s too pre-occupied with her phone to move.

“Gosh darn, you, I’m gonna - ” The door flings open, the draft behind it causing Danneel’s hair to fly away from her shoulders. “Your dad’s here!” she yells over her shoulder, promptly heading back to wherever she’d just appeared from.

“Nice to see you,” he mumbles, trying like hell not to hold it against her. They’re amicable after all these years but there are still days when he sees how the split weighs heavily on her. 

Jensen walks comfortably through the foyer, hallway, and down a few steps into the back family room. JJ is just as he expected. Sunken into corner cushions, one leg draped over the other knee, foot winding lazy circles as her thumbs fly over the touch screen. 

“Hey, darling,” he says with warmth spilling into his stomach. Even fully teenaged and complete with a growing attitude and distracted disposition, his baby girl still makes him crave the love of family. 

“Hey, dad,” she replies without looking up. 

“You ready?”

“Where are we going?”

“Lunch? And shopping?”

“She needs clothes for vacation!” Danneel shouts from somewhere behind him. The kitchen maybe. “If you’re going shopping then you should get her some clothes. Dang girl is already sprouting out of stuff from Christmas.”

JJ doesn’t flinch at the idea; shopping usually makes her jump and cry in joy. 

Jensen makes a face. He wants to spend time with his daughter and give her all that he can - price no object - but he’d rather sit in a dark room alone than follow JJ through a mall. “Your mom says you need clothes. But you always need clothes, don’t you, girl?”

“Mmhmm,” she sounds out with her tongue tucked in the corner of her mouth. 

He smiles wistfully. It’s the same thoughtful motion she made when drawing him something to put up in his trailer. 

“Then maybe Disneyland?” he tries, hitting for left field and testing if she’s really paying attention. “And the beach? Alcatraz? Maybe drive down to Napa and cruise through a few dozen wineries?”

JJ blows errant golden red hair off her forehead, thumbs flying faster than before. “Mmhmm.”

“Then maybe Costa Rica?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And France? Or Spain? I hear the rain falls there, most of the time anyway.”

“Sure, okay.”

Jensen tucks his hands deep into his pants and watches his daughter play on her phone for a full minute. Complete silence almost makes him regret their regular Saturday outings. But he figures seeing her for even these spare moments is better than not at all. He moved to Louisiana to stay close to her after all. Has let Danneel set the schedule for them all since the divorce, so he supposes he can’t complain. 

Another few breaths and he turns on his heel to find Danneel in the pantry. Or what used to be the pantry and is now an empty closet with stacks of non-perishables blocking entry. 

“So she’s still glued to her phone,” Jensen says to the wall of cans and boxes. 

Danneel pops up to look at him over the shortest pile. “She’s fifteen. All fifteen-year-olds want their phones.”

Jensen shifts in place, winces when Danneel disappears again. “Want them more than their fathers?”

“What do you expect? It’s a Saturday and it’s ninety degrees out. She’d rather be swimming than stuck inside.”

“Then let’s go swimming.”

“Let’s?” She laughs and dumps another bulk of items that rattle one particularly tall stack of Campbell’s. 

Something twists inside and his mind flashes back to another set of Campbells, long ago characters he once cared about. Jensen grabs a few cans before they fall and he stares intently at the letters that make up _Tomato_ and _Broccoli Cheese_.

He might have been lost in thought for only seconds or minutes, and maybe it’s the latter because Danneel has to break him from the fog. 

“Jay?”

“Hmm?” he asks even as he stares at the red and white label like the words will break up and reform, change into something else. 

“Jay,” Danneel repeats firmly, “You okay? Hungry?”

Jensen drifts back to _now_. “Hungry? No, I’m fine. Why?”

“Because you’re staring quite intently at the soup.”

Shaking himself out of it, he puts the cans back into place then looks at Danneel. Her hair is piled messily at the top of her head, flighty wisps all over her forehead and down along her neck. Cheeks pink from exertion and the rest of her face bare of makeup, he’s caught by how beautiful she is and he shakes his head sadly, mourning what they used to be. 

“You really wanna swim?” she offers with concern in her voice and eyes. 

“What?”

“You mentioned swimming before. With JJ. You said maybe you should swim instead of shopping.”

He remembers that part now and laughs a little. “Well, it’d certainly be a hell of a lot cheaper than the mall.”

“You can take her to your house.” Danneel shakes her head to clear the wayward hair from her temples then blows at the troublesome pieces, just like JJ in the family room. “Wanna keep her for the night?”

“If she wants,” he says on automatic and immediately realizes he really wants it, too. “Yeah, we should. I’d like that, maybe she will, too.”

She smiles, honest and open. “Of course. And maybe if her phone goes for a dip, too, it wouldn’t be so bad. She’s married to the thing.”

“That’s on you,” he chuckles. “Seven years old and you thought she needed one.”

“To call for emergencies, or us, or whatever,” Danneel insists. “And you didn’t fight me much on that one, as I remember.”

Jensen scruffs the back of his head and turns away from the bright playfulness in Danneel’s eyes. As much as he loves it, still loves her, he thinks he doesn’t deserve to admire her anymore. She’s an attentive mother, fights hard to be a strong role model, and gives JJ comfort for the both of them on a daily basis. He knows all this, and is thankful she’s kept it up all these years for their girl … that still hasn’t moved from the couch.

“JJ!” he shouts back towards the hallway. “Let’s go!”

Her lame, “Yeah, okay,” barely makes it to him and he waits until she’s ready.

In the morning, there’s another dream. This time, Dean’s cozy behind the wheel of the Impala, seat and dash rumbling with the fire to drive every county road and the windows down with fresh air whipping both Winchesters in the face. His eyes water against the draft, but it feels good, damn good, to be heading off to nowhere with a hunt in the rear view mirror.

Sam searches the cooler in the back for a good sandwich. Not good like tasty and high-class; good like easy on the mold. And he loses half his Diet Coke when he opens it too soon after being shaken around in the half-empty green cooler, contents under pressure and all that. 

Luckily Sam and Dean aren’t under any pressure in this moment. 

Sam mumbles in between chewing on what is either safe egg salad or expired chicken. “But if you could pick just one, what would it be?”

Dean rolls his eyes at the impossible: one artist to listen to for the rest of his life. Only one portfolio of music to keep the Impala and him company as they crisscross the lower forty-eight. There’s no answer. Not any worth considering.

“Springsteen? Mellencamp? Seger?” Sam offers. 

“All of the above.”

“I said _one_.”

“It’s all one,” Dean argues with flare. “It’s all Americana. One specific folder on Pandora. It’s all there.”

Sam snorts. “What do you know about Pandora?”

He knows enough, thankfully found it on his phone a few years ago to expand his musical horizons when he needed something to kill dark silences. “Something about a box.” He smirks when he catches Sam groaning and shaking his head. 

“Alright, I got one,” Sam says, sitting up straighter. “Mighty Mouse or Superman?”

“Don’t _Stand by Me_ … me,” he replies with attitude. Sam laughs and rolls his eyes, and Dean grins inside at the happiness lighting up his brother’s face. 

These days, with their forties on the horizon, even five minutes of generic road time and meaningless quizzes, with a breezy smile between them … well, life can’t be much better than this.

Of course, that’s when an oncoming semi pulling two trailers veers into their lane and Dean jams both feet on the brake …

Jensen scrambles up from the mattress. His knees scatter on smooth cotton sheets as he fumbles to catch himself before falling and breaking a bone or pulling a muscle. The room is as bright as the sun was in his dream, but now he’s surrounded by four walls instead of a mirage of sand and cacti in the Southwest.

The clock reads 6:08 AM and he wants to weep with the lack of sleep he’s getting lately. 

“Dad?” JJ mumbles from the doorway. “What’re you doing?”

“What?” He flips over to face her and frowns at the sad disheveled state of his daughter all but sleepwalking into the room. “Why are you up so early?”

“Why are you?” 

She crawls into the empty half of his bed, curls up into a ball so tiny he barely believes she’s a teenager, and closes her eyes again. “I wasn’t up,” he insists

“Yeah you were. You were yelling. You woke me up. Why are you up?”

Slowly, Jensen settles back under the blankets and watches JJ’s eyelashes flutter as she falls back into sleep. He reaches over her for the other end of the comforter, tugs it back over to cover her, then does his best to back to sleep himself. 

It never happens, and he spends the next hour staring at the ceiling, his daughter, or the black and white portrait of the Grand Canyon, blown up to fill nearly the entire wall like a living landscape.

Jared had given it to him as a show ending present, joked about the Winchesters ever seeing the place, and made Jensen pinky swear, of all things, that they’d do it themselves. The portrait found a great place in Jensen’s second-chance home, but they never found their way to Colorado. 

After another hour of fitful rest, where his mind wouldn’t settle on any subject outside the world of _Supernatural_ or Vancouver living, Jensen quietly escapes his bedroom with a change of clothes and finds himself outside. He’s steps away from the door to the garage and his fingers twitch and bend like they’re searching for the doorknob to the place. A bluebird lands on the faded grey eaves, chirps at him, and flaps its wings as if poking at him to make up his damn mind. When he finally does, the garage opens up to natural light with the side windows opening as smoothly as the day he moved in, and the double-wide motorized door rising to the ceiling. 

On the far end is the boat, _The Captain and Danneel_ , that has no place to dock right now. Hasn’t for about six years, really, since they moved over this way and Jensen let his research fall to the wayside. But that’s not what’s tripping him up here. No, the real thorn in his side is the dusty sheath covering the object that brought him out here in the first place. 

With delicate fingers, he slips one corner up and feels a few tons of iron drop on his chest with the anxiety of unraveling this right now. Then another few feet are revealed, and he’s met with the gleam of still perfect black paint, glossy and dark like a southern pond at night. 

He takes her all in, every square inch of _Baby_ on display for his heart to envelope once again. His fingers streak loudly against the paint when he rounds the car and his heart beats wildly the longer he stands in her presence.

Suddenly, he’s transported to another world where there’s the deep scent of forests, dewy at dawn then growing fogging late into the night. Crickets and other bugs tweaking from their spots beneath brush or hidden in the big bark above them. Shadows streaking the ground while bright production lights pave the way for him to find his mark to slip into Dean Winchester, where to look for his Sam. 

Jensen has long missed Dean, far longer than he’s ever allowed himself to consider. But beyond that, he misses Sam and how easily Jared would slide into that skin, filling Dean’s missing pieces. It was Sam and Dean on the road and keeping each other company, watching one another’s backs, sure. But there was also the comfort Jensen felt in the back of his mind when and where Sam appeared. Gave him something soft and warm to burrow into, to know that for all of Dean’s faults, he had Sam waiting just inches away to bring them both forward and keep on moving. 

Jensen Ackles, he thinks, never clearly had that. Or maybe he did, but he never quite allowed himself to recognize it, or let it appear in anything more than weekends back in Austin with Danneel and JJ. 

Just as his memories slide back to his little angel that came up to his waist with bright orange pigtails and sparkling smiles, Jensen is broken from the moment by his now-teenaged disinterested daughter coming out of the house. 

Her clothes are wrinkled from sleep and her hair is messily piled atop her head. When she crosses her arms at her chest and strolls closer, he sees the early years of his life with Danneel and his stomach turns sour for what was and what now exists for him. 

JJ winces against the warm sun in her eyes and looks annoyed to be out in the sunlight even when she spent hours in and around the pool yesterday. “What’re you doing?”

He ignores her confusion to carefully rub her bare, sunburnt shoulder. “You burn just like me.”

“Mom says that all the time.”

Despite the shortness in her tone, she leans against him and he’s overcome with nervous energy. Over the last few years, she’s grown into her next phase of high school and eyerolls, and he’s mentally burrowed down deep to hide his disappointment for how poorly retirement sat on his shoulders. Between both of them struggling to find themselves, she’s pulled back from him and he hasn’t questioned it, just lets her as comfortable as she wishes. She allows the requisite hugs in greeting and goodbye, sure, but none last as long as she now stands beside him, tucked in close. 

“I haven’t seen it in forever,” she says, sounding confused and weirded out.

Jensen brings his arm around her back to hold her closer. “Me neither.”

“I used to get jealous.”

It’s a quiet admission and he’s afraid to question it too much, so he remains quiet. 

“You’d call her baby,” JJ continues, growing even quieter as she speaks. “But it’s just a car. I was your baby.”

Jensen closes his eyes and kisses the top of her head. “You still are.”

“And so is she.”

He knows she’s not wrong. Can’t admit to that, though, so she hugs her with his arms wrapped around tight and her buried in his chest. “I’m sorry. It was never fair to you.” 

He thinks about a whole lot of things that were never fair to her. How long he stayed away to keep working. How much he let Danneel steer her childhood without much of his input, all so he could have the brightest moments with them when he _was_ there. How he failed to comfort her through the divorce and tended to his own wounds. How he has done fuck all to make it up to her since leaving Vancouver for good. 

_It’s not you, it’s me_ , he thinks, but knows that’s not enough for a daughter to hear. 

“Is it too late?” Jensen asks instead.

“No.”

He squeezes her tight and pulls back to touch her face and smile at her. “So, where do I start?”

JJ bites her lower lip in thought then aims a cruel grin his way. “Shopping.”

“Oh, God,” he sighs then she sticks a finger in his face.

“No rolling your eyes, either!”

“Yeah, alright. Whatever my princess wants, my princess gets.”

Two weekends later, Jensen trails JJ at the mall for another round of retail therapy. This time, though, she spends time judging silly devices in Brooks Brothers or the clearance rack at Nordstrom. He finds himself enjoying the attention and chances to make her laugh, and he’s grinning when he drops her off at Danneel’s.

They struggle with a few bags into the foyer, laughing and tripping loudly enough to grab Danneel’s attention to join them. 

“Well, that looks like a successful mall run,” Danneel says, smiling right at JJ then glancing warily at Jensen.

“Yeah, we found a really cool US map with raised capitals, like all the buildings there, right in place.”

“Excellent find!”

“And then Dad said I needed a good frame and picked up every globe in Macy’s. Almost broke one,” she adds with a giggle.

Jensen shrugs with modesty. “I was just keeping the sales kid on his toes.”

“But you dropped it on his toes!”

“At least he didn’t have steel-toed boots.”

“It definitely would’ve shattered then.”

Danneel keeps looking between them and pulls her shoulders up with some sense of emotion. “So you guys had a good time?”

Jensen and JJ share a look and his stomach turns at the warmth in her eyes. He combs stray ginger hair off her shoulder and nods. “Yeah, it was really great.”

Seconds later, JJ rushes in for a tight hug, hiding her face in his shoulder. 

Jensen is shocked by the sudden hold that he belatedly hugs her back while Danneel stares at them. He kisses the side of her hair before she can escape, then clears his throat when JJ drags her newest haul up to her room. 

Danneel is silent with one eyebrow arched up high. 

He shrugs and tries to get his voice to work, but it’s buried deep with the warmth that’s curling around his insides at JJ’s sudden attachment. When he puts his hand out, ready to talk, Danneel lightly coughs through her own emotion with eyes shining. 

“She’s been missing you a long time.”

“Me, too.”

Danneel gives him a long look then whispers, “Like, the real you.”

“Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Me, too.”

“Chicken,” Sam says as he sets the foil-wrapped sandwich at Dean’s hip.

Dean scrabbles to stop touching the object and ends up jerking the wheel around so the Impala’s wheels squeal.

“Dean!”

“What?”

Sam huffs. “Eyes. Road. C’mon man.” 

“I meant what to the chicken. There is no way a place called Dino’s doesn’t have a bacon cheeseburger.”

“They didn’t have bacon,” he replies, idly playing with the hard plastic top of his salad, which is mutli-colored with far more vegetables than Dean thought existed in this world.

Dean shakes his head and growls, along with the stomach that had been craving lots of greasy meat to ease this hangover. “You are such a goddam liar.”

“They didn’t have bacon!” Sam insists. “What was I gonna do?”

“Wait until they get some?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Sam munches through his salad mostly in silence. The lettuce crunches with every bite and Dean can’t roll his eyes without taking the Impala off the road again. He finally brings the sandwich to his lap and fiddles with the foil until he’s assaulted by something very mushy and very green.

Gritting his teeth, Dean checks the rear then side mirrors and pulls off to the shoulder with gravel kicking up against the metal underside of the car. 

Sam looks around then stares at Dean. “What?”

Dean points angrily at the mess on his thigh. “What is this?”

“What did you do?” he asks with a disgusted face.

“I did nothing. The sandwich did … whatever this is.” Dean’s anger fades into confusion and worry over the state of his lunch. “I mean, it’s like, everywhere.” When he nudges the bun, there’s an odd soppy noise and Dean whines. “It just squealed. Chicken doesn’t squeal. _Bacon_ does, but in the tasty way.”

Sam grabs the paper bag from their order and reads the menu stapled to the front. “Looks like it’s avocado.”

Dean peeks under the bread and winces. “This is a really wet avocado.”

“And ranch.”

“Ugh, no. Hell no.” He pitches the thing out of the window and holds his breath until the smell has left the car. “Fries?”

Sam sets the bag next to Dean and gets back to his salad as if there is no more surprises in store, but Dean stares at the dark orange fry between his thumb and forefinger. 

“And this?” Dean watches Sam read the menu again and snarls just as Sam cringes. 

“Looks like carrot.”

He harshly chuckles. “Yeah, it definitely looks like a carrot, Francis.”

“Carrot fries dujour,” Sam reads from the paper, “a new fresh favorite.”

“Says who?”

“Dino Arrabino. The Fresh Master.”

He’s far from happy with that answer, and no happier when Sam shrugs and offers his salad in penance. Dean rolls his eyes and punches the gas to get them back on the road, reading every oasis sign until he finds something that just may serve good ol’ fashioned fried fare.

Jensen takes great care to open the driver’s side door to the Impala. He’s too nervous to sit in the seat just yet, but he yanks the hood knob and gets a look at her insides. Everything creaks, just as worn out as he remembers, and the machinery that kept her running up in Canada looks worn and dirty.

Just as promised long ago, Jared joined Jensen to bring Baby down to the states, driving her all the way to Austin. Stops were made for food and bathrooms, but little else, and they bragged for days in Texas that it only took them forty hours with Jared’s lead foot. Which Jensen had bitched about for all the hours he was awake, to take great care of his girl and Jared might throttle the girl far beyond her life.

Now he wonders how she sounds. She never purred like a kitten or vibrated like a finely tuned massage chair, but she had a strong fire in her belly that was unmistakable. 

“God, not this again,” JJ whines. 

Jensen spins to JJ walking up the driveway. She shakes her head as she nears him then crosses her arms as she stares at the car. He sees Danneel in her car at the end of the drive, and he waves awkwardly. Though, he quickly forgets the nerves he always gets when he recognizes their relationship is far from good now when JJ pulls a stool over from the workbench and sits. 

“What’re you doing?” she asks while tapping the tops of her knees. 

“Just looking.”

“Looks pretty old,” she quips.

“Hey!” he barks, “pay some respect to your elders.”

“I was talking about the car.”

After a few moments of glaring at her, JJ’s cheeks pinch up, creasing her cheeks with tiny dimples he remembers poking at when she was a toddler running through the house. Back when she giggled at everything in her sight, rather than scowl and rolled her eyes like the dreaded teenager she’s been for the last few years.

JJ playfully sighs. “I’m not interrupting your alone time, am I?”

“No, not at all.” Jensen even combs through the loose ends of her hair and smiles. “You’re always welcome here.”

“Mom was nervous we were too early.”

“Never.” He glances back down the drive to where Danneel no longer is and crooks an eyebrow. “Why was she nervous about that?”

JJ shrugs. “Like if you weren’t here. Or ready or something.”

“You could’ve called to make sure. You have my number. And I know you have a phone because you’re usually glued to it.” He winks, but he still means it. For all that JJ is opening up a little now, she still tends to whip her phone out in between sentences to check on … whatever it is fifteen-year-olds are up to on the internet these days. 

“We did, but you didn’t answer. And Mom had to get off to the store to buy Tom something then finish packing.”

Jensen stares at her for a few seconds before it all clicks. Jared’s text. Tom’s birthday. A trip down to Austin that he never planned. One he knows Danneel was making with JJ for the party. He rubs the back of his neck and turns back to the Impala to distract himself, and hide any wayward emotions running over his face. “Yeah, that’s right. His fifteenth birthday.”

“Sixteenth.”

His breath catches at the loss of time. Not just the last year, but the ones since both families were tied at the hip and spent full weekends together to celebrate birthdays and good news and bright suns on warm days. 

“Are you going?”

_I totally forgot_. It’s the only real answer aside from _I didn’t think about it_. He knows JJ won’t like either of those. No one in either family would. 

“Did something happen?”

He turns at that, tilting his head in thought. His memories are foggy from just after the show ended and in the time since then that he’s lost time with Jared and Genevieve and their boys. Nothing happened that was beyond his control. Nothing that could be pegged on anyone but him. 

JJ sucks in a deep breath and bites the corner of her mouth, gathering the will to say more. “They think something’s wrong. Like you’re not okay or they did something.”

Jensen blinks at the thought. “Who’s they?”

“Uncle Jared and Aunt Gen.”

“Oh.” He looks away. “Really?”

“They ask a lot. And they worry. Even Tom bugs me sometimes about it because he says his dad is really bummed about it. But Mom just says you’re doing your own thing. Which I didn’t really understand before but now it seems like your own thing is you just being alone.”

They’re not wrong. None of them are to be worried about him, and Danneel and JJ are right on target with their excuse. He’s just been alone. So alone that even the well-intentioned question hits him in places he’d long ago forgotten about. 

“So what should I tell them this time?”

He holds his breath while he thinks it over and he’s unsure if it’s true, but he wants it to be. “Tell them I’ll be there.”


	2. Part Two

The Impala roars a little louder and shakes a bit more, but it’s like home to sit inside her and let her drive. He stays just ahead of the sun as it heads west and he think he’s making good time even when it hits him a few hours in. Long drives alone with just empty pavement and an empty head are far less exciting than the stories claim they are. 

Still, he’s smiling with a sense of accomplishment when he pulls up the drive, windling through trees that seem taller and bushier than he remembers. The car rumbles all the way to a stop, loud enough that he’s not even out of the car when Jared appears in the front door, yelling, “Holy shit!”

Jensen laughs in nervous hysterics to actually be here. Following through on a plan like this is far beyond his means these days, but he’s proud to have seen it through. Still vibrates from the Impala, and maybe more from finally seeing Jared in person after all this time. Especially when Jared approaches him with a wide, wild eyes that are surprised, excited, and wet. 

“You’re actually here!” Jared shouts then motions at the car. “And with her!”

He takes a few moments to watch Jared react to Baby with unsubtle movements like covering his mouth, running both hands through his hair, stuttering his feet around, finally huffing like good ol’ Sam Winchester after a long-fought grapple with some troublesome monster. 

Jensen catalogs all the newness to his old best friend. Tiny lines around his lips and more than just a few grey hairs streaking his mane. Thinner hips and legs, a deeper divot in his neck and his dimples, along with more anxiety making his joints stiff as he looks between the car and Jensen too many times to count. 

Now he feels self-conscious for what age has done to him, what Jared will notice, or anyone else here. And maybe coming was a terrible idea because he knows he’ll have to face a hundred questions about where he’s been the last few years, why he dropped off the planet, what possessed him to drive by himself—in the Impala, no less—from Louisiana at dawn. 

“I hope I’m not late?” he asks before diving back into the car for a big box wrapped in shiny blue paper with an obnoxious bow taking up the whole top of the gift. “JJ said about noonish.”

Jared looks at him, really looks, digging deeper into Jensen’s eyes with his brows furrowed and creases marring the tan of his face. “Yeah, right,” he mumbles. “Noonish is fine. Everyone’s out back. You wanna come in? Maybe get a drink? Something to eat? Probably need to piss, right?” He awkwardly laughs at the end then takes a deep breath. 

Jensen can’t tell if he’s happy to see Jared so nervous in this moment, because at least it reflects Jensen’s own worries. Or maybe he’s just happy to see his old friend, period. Because he grins and nods. “Lead the way.”

With a returning nod, Jared heads into the house, which is all done up in red and blue streamers and balloons, but looks relatively the same as the last time he visited. Maybe Tom’s twelfth a few years ago or something similarly kid-oriented. Jensen wonders what it says about him that he barely keeps in touch with one of the people who’ve known him best except for kid’s parties. Like those obligations carry more guilt with him than anything he owes to their friendship. 

Still, Jared is more than welcoming when he takes the gift to a pile in the family room then counts off where food and drinks are, directs Jensen towards the bathroom, and says there’s a whole set-up in the backyard, too, with the kids hanging out at the pool. 

“Did you bring a suit?” Jared asks suddenly. “Not sure if you knew you could, or …”

He didn’t, but he wasn’t thinking much when he packed anyway. It’s highly likely he forgot underwear, and he didn’t even bother to book a place to stay tonight. Memories of Sam and Dean camping in the car flood him and he thinks he’d be perfectly fine doing that if he’s not up for driving back tonight. 

Once he’s washed up in the restroom, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and stuffed a few chips into his mouth, Jensen follows the music to the backyard where a dozen teenagers are loitering in and around the pool. Off to the right, patio tables and chairs hold the parents, including Danneel and Genevieve who pause in the middle of their conversation when Jared joins them. Jensen knows he’s the subject of that interruption because both women are dumbfounded as they stare at Jared then look behind him to Jensen standing on the patio.

And now he’s sure he’s the dumb one, especially when he offers a lame wave and takes a long drink from his ice cold bottle. 

Genevieve rises and walks to him with a slow gait, like she’s forcing herself to approach him. Her smile is timid, like on that first day they ever met, when she says hi and thanks him for coming. It’s all trite conversation when he thanks her for having him, compliments the party and the decorations, says he’s happy to be here for Tom. 

“Did you find the food and drinks in the kitchen? Oh, right, of course,” she chuckles and motions at his beer. 

Jensen nods and tries to smile comfortably, because this was never hard between them. Everything had always been easy in their big joint family. “Jared told me where everything is. I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

Genevieve frowns and looks down. “We always do.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just …” He finally loses steam at playing the happy guest and glances across the yard. JJ is at the pool, throwing a volleyball in for the rest of the gang to start a game, and he smiles at the familiar, happy face. “I’m gonna say hi to the birthday boy. We’ll talk later.”

He doesn’t wait for her answer, doesn’t bother gauging how anyone else is reacting to his presence except for the kids. Shep seems as gobsmacked at seeing him, Tom, too. They take the time to pause their game and hug and chat before canon-balling back into the water. Then JJ jogs over to hug him long and hard. 

“I told them you’d come,” she says into his shirt. 

“Thanks, Princess.” He kisses her forehead and breaks away to let her return to the fun. 

Those few minutes are a nice distraction, but he’s stuck staring at the gathering again and losing his momentum to carry on much longer. 

Jensen makes a nearby chaise lounge his seat as he lets the kids’ volleyball game entertain him for a while. 

Soon enough, Jared joins him with a fresh bottle and takes up the chaise next to him. They drink quietly for nearly half a beer before Jensen shifts towards him and watches as Jared obliterates the damp label on the bottle. 

“I’m sorry,” Jensen offers just as Jared asks, “Are you okay?”

He blinks at Jared and busies himself with another drink of beer. “I’m doing better.”

“Doing better is driving halfway across Texas? 

“Halfway ain’t so bad,” he jokes.

“And in the Impala?”

Jensen laughs at himself, digs down for an appropriate response. He doesn’t like any of the words that come to mind, so he goes for the truth. “Yeah, that is doing better.”

Running a hand through his hair, Jared takes a moment to check on Genevieve and Danneel across the yard. “From all that Danneel says, you’re not far from being a hermit, but lately you’ve been kinda …”

He looks to Danneel and regrets the terrible impression she’s gotten of him over time. Regrets that she’s only reporting the truth, and wishes he had done better for himself. “Kinda what?”

“I don’t know.” Jared sighs and finishes his beer. Slowly, he turns towards Jensen to really look at him. “You really fixed up Baby?”

Jensen feels the tension lighten a bit at Jared’s impressed surprise. “Didn’t take much.”

“How long’ve you been working on her?”

“Not long.” He shrugs and shakes his head. “I mean, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh really?” Jared mocks.

“I paid someone to get it done by yesterday.”

Jared laughs. “That’s more like it.”

Jensen does, too. “And it ain’t cheap, man. I mean, to do it last minute? And on an old girl like her? Cost me more than a shopping trip with JJ.”

“You always loved spoiling her.”

At the thought of that, he watches her swim after the volleyball when Tom misses hitting it back over the net, and smiles. “Yeah, it’s fun again.”

Jared moves to the edge of his seat, setting his hands on Jensen’s leg. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m trying,” Jensen admits quietly. He pats Jared’s hands and leaves his palm on them. “I think this might be a start?”

Blinking away moisture in his eyes, Jared tries to smile. One of his hands turns over to hold Jensen’s, squeeze, then tug him up so they can head back to the rest of the party. 

It’s not easy to stick around the rest of the day, to catch Danneel and Genevieve watching him with critical eyes, but he finds comfort in Jared’s energy around him.

“We should road trip again,” Jensen insists as he struggles to open his seventh beer—maybe eighth? He knows he lost time once the presents were opened and Tom unveiled a dozen or so Texas Rangers items that will fill his new obsession with baseball. 

Jared laughs into the lip of his own beer. “Yeah right. And have you yell at me the whole time.”

“You were riding her too hard!” Jensen exclaims then smirks when Jared nearly chokes with the innuendo. 

“Now _that_ would’ve made the trip more interesting.”

“All you had to do was ask, darlin’.” He winks at Jared, who grins and kicks his feet up to the empty patio chair next to him. 

Outside, with the sun slipping behind the trees and the party reconvening inside for Cowboys game. They’re actually rising to the occasion in the playoffs, while Jensen is savoring his time with Jared alone, like the old days. 

“I didn’t know you were so easy,” Jared jokes.

“Oh, you definitely knew.”

They laugh together, loud and drunk and happy. And bringing Genevieve out to check on them. 

“You fellas okay out here?” she asks with a wary eye for each of them. 

“Yeah, we’re okay,” Jared insists. “Sorry if we’re too loud.”

They look at one another long enough that Jensen wonders what the underlying thoughts are. “You sure you don’t want to watch the game?”

Jared looks at Jensen, who starts to wonder if he’s outstayed his welcome and this is their way to ease him out the door. So he stands and sets his beer to the side before frowning apologetically. “It’s fine. I should head out.”

“No!” Jared says quite loudly, and maybe a bit drunkely. “No, you don’t have to leave. Probably shouldn’t after the beer. You can stay in the guest room.”

“Jared,” Genevieve says hesitantly while watching him, more words going unsaid between them. 

“No it’s fine,” he insists. “Jensen can have the guest room. I’ll take the couch if needed. You good with that?”

With Jared staring at him, Jensen wants to say yes just to make him happy. Anything to keep Jared joyful right now and to stay on this fun trip down memory lane a bit longer. Though he does recognize how Genevieve is eyeing Jared like he’s really stepped into a pile of shit for them. Jensen wants to do right for Jared, but he’s also feeling selfish about this whole trip. 

Before Jensen can answer, Genevieve grants them a quiet okay and heads back into the house. Jared is left looking deflated and Jensen knows he can’t stay. 

“I should head out,” he suggests while walking back towards the house.

Jared nabs him by the elbow and tugs him back so they face one another. “No, you shouldn’t.”

“Jared, I’m not dumb or blind. I can see I’m not really good here.”

“Don’t worry about Gen.” He pleads with his strained voice and his wide eyes. “Trust me.”

Jensen recounts all that went down the last few minutes and asks, “What’s with you on the couch?”

Jared shrugs a little, dropping his hold on Jensen’s arm to tuck his hands into his shorts’ pockets. “Just a little tiff. I’ve been staying in the guest room, so she probably wonders where I’d sleep if you stay.”

“I can leave. Really. It’s not a big deal.” Even if Jensen knows it kind of is a major thing to have put himself out here, getting Baby all fixed up, driving seven plus hours, and attempting to revive the old friendship—and the old Jensen. 

“It’s a very big deal. So very big.”

Jensen lifts an eyebrow at the panicky insistence in Jared’s words.

“You’re here now and you’re not leaving. Even if I have to tie you down the lock all the doors.”

He lifts the other eyebrow along with the corner of his mouth. “Sounds kinky.”

“If you’re into that kind of thing,” Jared says suggestively with a wink.

Jensen smirks back. “Maybe. It’s been a while.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out then. But first? More beer.”

He nods happily, playfully punching Jared in the gut. “More beer!”

In the morning, Jensen’s groggy and hungover. His stomach and mouth are wailing for some relief with water and coffee and eggs. And maybe a whole bucket of bacon, or something equally greasy. 

The sun shines right in his eyes from the open window beside him and he considers closing the blinds for relief and more sleep, but noises from deeper in the house make him get up to join the rest of the waking world. 

Genevieve is pouring coffee for Danneel, who’s talking softly while sitting at the kitchen island. When Jensen enters the room, it’s obvious they’d been discussing him by the way they both halt all words and turn to him. 

“Morning,” he offers with a small wave, feeling as silly and small as when he first showed up yesterday afternoon.

“Morning Jensen!” Genevieve greets, suspiciously too happy. “Coffee? Or juice or something else?”

“Coffee is good.” He approaches the island and touches the empty stool next to Danneel. “You mind if I join y’all?”

Danneel shuffles a few inches away to give him more room at the counter, immediately insisting he’s welcome wherever he wants. 

Jensen sits and sips on the steaming coffee, thankful for the bright perky taste of caffeine. The ladies get to talking about the party and presents Tom will be glad to wear on a daily basis, and Jensen remotely thinks this feels comfortable and normal, like their long-ago lives. Yet he knows it’s nothing like that at all when he’s not part of the conversation and fears making himself interrupt them. Especially after it was obvious that Genevieve didn’t want him staying last night. 

“You’re still here!” JJ announces when she enters the room. 

Jensen immediately grins for his daughter and spins on the stool to welcome her hug. She stays hanging at his side, arm slung around his neck, when Tom and Shep come for breakfast as well. 

From there, things go on as it always had, except with Jensen remaining a silent spectator. Tom and Shep elbow each other to get at seconds and thirds of pancakes and sausage. JJ and Danneel chatter on over the ruckus of the boys, and Genevieve laughs and admonishes her sons when they spill food off plates and onto the floor. 

Jensen observes that Jared is oddly absent, especially with all the noise going on. So once he’s got enough in him to stave off any immediate hunger pains and dehydration, Jensen excuses himself in search of his friend.

He finds Jared in the front living room, showered and dressed, kicked back in the corner of the big sectional couch. Likely the same one Jared had to sleep on, and Jensen suddenly feels terrible he didn’t offer to share the guest room with Jared. There was plenty of room in the bed, and he hates putting him out in his own home. 

When Jensen enters, Jared sits up quickly and turns down the volume on the big plasma on the wall, ESPN running Cowboys highlights.

“Hey! Did you get breakfast and coffee?” Jared asks with a close eye on Jensen.

He sits down a cushion away and smiles. “Yeah, I had enough. You’re not hungry?”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

Jensen narrows his eyes. “I’ve never seen you turn down breakfast. Especially Gen’s pancakes.”

“It’s cool,” he replies, eyes back on the TV. “I’ll grab something later.”

They fall into silence. Back in Vancouver, this would be a great comfort. Now, it makes Jensen’s skin itch and his mind zip through too many anxieties to wonder what’s running through Jared’s mind. Especially now that they’re sitting in each other’s space while life goes on in the rest of the house with the kids and their moms laughing it up. 

Jensen feels like he’s exiled to this room, and he thinks he deserves it for all that he’s put his family through. Forcing wedges between them with both space and emotion—or lack thereof—he was successful at making his life on his own. Only, it wasn’t the one he truly wanted, even if he didn’t know how to recognize that. 

He understands why he’s stuck here, mostly alone, but he has no clue why Jared is. So he looks at him, ready to ask just that. Only, when Jared’s eyes find his, warm and easy, and he slaps his hand to Jensen’s thigh with a move they’ve lived through hundreds of times before, Jensen keeps his silence and enjoys the quiet with Jared at his side.

Jensen says good bye to the Padaleckis as he tries to ignore the questions they all bottle up regarding these last twenty-four hours. Shep is the most successful with his smile and hug, squeezing tight around Jensen’s waist, with a happy, “Uncle Jensen!”

Jensen hugs back, pats the growing boy on the shoulders, and winks. He holds tighter to JJ when they share their good byes, and he and Danneel chance a fairly insignificant kiss on the cheek in passing. 

It’s harder when he’s standing outside with Jared following to the car. So many questions and declarations are buried deep within, but Jensen can’t manage to make any of them come to life.

Jared breathes deep and smiles awkwardly. “Well, thanks for coming by.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jensen insists with a nod. “Thank you for having me.”

“Any time, man.”

He nods again and Jared’s grows serious.

“Really, any time. You’re always welcome.”

Jensen chuckles and glances past Jared to the house. Thinks about all the ways the home must feel different to those inside without Jensen there. “You sure about that?” 

“Yeah. Always.”

He watches as his friend’s expression is held strong with meaning. Suddenly, Jensen is inspired to build off of the confidence in Jared’s few words, and on the solid weight of yearning Jensen has for their old friendship. “Hey, why don’t you come with?”

“Where?”

“On the road. We’ll take her out for a spin, hit up a few towns, eat diner breakfasts, stay in shitty hotels? Relive our old days.”

Jared laughs awkwardly then shakes his head. “Those aren’t really our old days.”

“Then we can start some new ones.”

“Jensen,” he laughs again.

“What?”

They stare at one another for a long moment until Jared shakes his head. “Are you really doing this?”

It hadn’t really been his intent, not by a long shot. But now that he’s had the Impala on the road, now that he’s been in Jared’s presence long enough to rejuvenate the way he always felt in their hey day … then: “Yeah, I really think I am. I wanna. It’ll be a great ride.”

“I think there’s something wrong in this tiny head of yours.”

Jensen smirks beyond the disappointment that Jared isn’t game. “Maybe there’s something wrong in your giant Big Foot noggin.”

“I can’t leave, Jensen,” Jared says seriously. “I got the kids and the house.”

Still, Jensen tries to needle at Jared’s resolve with a little bit of a smile and leading tone. “Just a week or two. It could be fun to escape a little. Just us two, you know?”

Jared looks back at the house and they both see Genevieve peek out a window to see them both out there. 

“Maybe a little space for you and Gen will help.”

He tsks and shuffles his feet. After a moment, he offers, “Why don’t you stay here for a bit? That’s more like our good ol’ days.”

Jensen makes a face. “I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not exactly on the guest list anymore,” Jensen points out with a motion at the very window Genevieve had been snooping from.

“It’s just her and Danneel. She’s on Danneel’s side. Add on our … thing … and she’s not gonna be excited for anything I have to say.”

Jensen surely knows how that goes, when relationships twist a little poorly and anything said or done is offensive until it’s all smoothed over and made up. He had that plenty of times with Danneel before they both recognized the relationship was far too broken to salvage and she deserved better than what he could offer her post-show. 

“Or me,” Jensen adds. “Me saying or doing anything, right?”

Jared pats Jensen’s shoulder, rubbing a little in assurance. “No. It’s not you. Trust me.”

Jensen looks over Jared’s shoulder before facing him again. “So you’re in the middle of a fight where you can’t win, and you’d rather stay here and face the ice storm than get away a little?”

“Shep’s got baseball camp starting this week,” he excuses away. “I promised him I’d be there for it.”

With a nod, Jensen concedes to the argument. He’s made plenty of promises to JJ over the years and only now is he making good on them. He wouldn’t want Jared to do the same and ruin the good link he’s always had with his sons. 

“But you better keep in touch!” Jared insists, pulling Jensen into a hug. Like they’d always done, they hold tight and thump backs, but Jared holds on a little longer, inhaling loudly before releasing and sighing. “Even if you run off on the road, call or text or something.”

Jensen’s skin goes warm from the hug and he’s feeling itchy for another. To be that connected to Jared again. Still, he jokes, “I’m sending you postcards from every town I drive through.”

Jared laughs and shoves at Jensen’s shoulder. “Good luck getting anywhere fast.”

They don’t say much more, weak goodbyes that neither of them really want to share, and Jensen forces himself to walk to the Impala. The door squeaks through the awkward silence when he swings it open and closed, and the engine grumbles to life with the seat rumbling beneath him. 

Jared lifts his hand in a wave, holding it up as Jensen makes a three-point turn in the turnaround to head back down the drive. He checks the rear view mirror a dozen times on his way out and he’s uncertain if it’s good or bad that Jared never moves.

The first rest stop is grimy in a way Jensen had forgotten most are in these out-of-the way places. He’s comforted by the lazy drawl of the folks he encounters. One offers a wave and hello in the parking lot, a few behind the counter in the shop while picking up some coffee and snacks are playful for such a “handsome little delight” entering their store. 

Jensen gets all _aw shucks_ as he pays for a full tank and his goods, and waves a few fingers good bye. 

He finds great pride in pumping gas into the Impala, happily petting the paint job as he holds the nozzle to her gas tank. 

The pavement is only a year or two old, dark and fresh with a flattop that doesn’t disrupt the drive. The air is cool and whistles through the windows and across his ears. 

When the sun falls to the west, he moves the visor to the left, avoiding the blinding heat while enjoying the golden hue outside. 

A few hours later, he hits up another gas station in a dirt-ladden town, but this one has postcards. He doesn’t hesitate grabbing a handful and scribbling messages to those back home. His parents, JJ, even Danneel, and Jared. Especially Jared. He’d promised after all.

_It’s twelve hours and forty-three minutes since I left your house. I think I’m far enough north to lose the dust of Texas. But everyone still talks funny. Kind of like we did long before we met. Or when you’ve forced too many shots on me at the wrap parties._

The bottom is signed with a perfect _J_.

He eats a gas station hot dog while sitting on the truck. Dusk is coming and he admires the glare of orange and red spilling out on the lake. He thinks of a hundred moments Sam and Dean have shared just like this, quiet and solemn, or open and laughing. Maybe even beat up and tired from a bad hunt. 

The dreams have tapered off, though he still wakes up disoriented as if he’s back on set. The motel rooms feel familiar, but there are no boom mics, light beams, or cameras waiting for him to speak. 

He finds that he talks to himself on occasion out here. Just little things, like reading maps aloud, or compiling shopping lists for Cokes and Funyons, Cheet-ohs, chewy candies like Nibs or Twizzlers. 

Gummi worms work when he finds the right brand. “Trolli!” he’d exclaimed one morning, even as a steaming hot cup of coffee and a cruller kept him from grabbing them. 

“Man, I love the Trolli. 

“Do you need the Trolli? 

“Maybe you do. 

“Is it worth it?”

The counter lady with the graying hair messily braided over one shoulder answered it for him. “You’re totally worth it, darlin’. You go for it!”

Now, he’s happy for the purchase, opening up the black plastic and inhaling the sharp sugary treats inside. “Definitely worth it,” he tells the sky in between chewing on a few red and yellow gummies. 

“And they’re all for me. No messy hands breaking the bag open.”

Jensen looks to his right as if Jared will materialize right there. The longer he stares at the empty space, the more he wishes it were possible and he thinks he’ll write another postcard tonight, once he settles in for the night. Maybe he’ll beg Jared to come out here, guilt him into meeting in the next state so they can do this together.

_In search of the world’s largest ball of twine. Maybe it’ll be messier than your hair. Gotta head back west at some point, I guess. For now, the wild Midwest is a good home to have._

_J_

He calls JJ every morning. Sometimes from whatever crap shoot room he’s grabbed for the night, other times from the road with the sun shining bright ahead of him. He texts her pictures of all kinds … cows and sheep filling up long stretches of grass on either side of county roads, a windmill farm in Indiana just off I-65, a chilly dusk on the east side of Lake Michigan. Most times his pictures feature commentary to make her laugh like … 

_These windmills are getting so big! Can’t wait to see them all grown up._

_Home! Home on the range! Where the sheep and the lady cows eat all the grass in sight then crap all over._

But most times, no matter how insignificant the photo, he types _Wish you were here._

After nine days on the road, he’s sent JJ nearly a hundred photos, Jared seven post cards, and Danneel a handful of _Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry, just having fun_ types of reassurances. 

He’s surprised it takes so long to hear back from Jared, but late on Tuesday morning, he’s eating steak and eggs in a roadside diner in the middle of Michigan when his phone finally rings. 

“Hey, stud,” Jensen says with a smile, “What can I do for you?”

“You were serious?” Jared asks.

He puts his fork down on his plate, transfers the phone to his other ear, and settles into the booth for a long conversation. “Yeah, I was,” he admits, trying like hell to keep any bitterness out of it. “And man, you should see the world out here. A far cry from most of what the show would set up. Everything’s a lot greener. A lot bigger.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Jared replies with a laugh. “Like, you’re actually driving everywhere?”

Jensen grins, partly to himself out of pride, and also with a strong smugness for Jared. “Hell yeah, I am. My baby’s taking good care of me.”

“And you’re actually sleeping in hotels with less than three stars?”

“Man, some of these don’t even have a corner of a star.”

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” Jared laughs. “You’re gonna get herpes or something from those mattresses.”

“Hopefully I’ll get it in a manner that’s far more fun than just sleeping.” After a beat, he adds, “If ya know what I’m saying.”

“Dude,” Jared argues, “I know exactly what you’re saying, and I don’t wanna witness that.”

Jensen laughs, grateful for the easy banter with his old friend. “Oh please, you’d pay top dollar for a front row seat.”

“Well, I guess it’d only cost me a few dollars anyway.”

“Asshole.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Jensen tacks on with a soft smile. 

“You’re such a nerd,” Jared says with a bit off fondness. The soft huff that follows warms Jensen’s chest with equal affection. “So I’m really calling to make sure you haven’t gone off the rails? After this conversation, I’m not so sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not, Jared,” he says with a level tone. “I swear that I’m not. This is actually … it’s just …” 

“It’s just what?”

“I totally needed this, man.” With the words out of his mouth, Jensen truly feels it deep in his bones, understands just how freeing this whole trip has been already. “I needed a break from life. Just see a whole new landscape around me.”

“And you had to do it driving around all alone, going on backroads, and setting yourself up for danger?”

He can sense the worry, so he tries to assure Jared that everything is perfectly fine. “I’m not in danger. I’m totally safe and well fed and I’m actually tanning. I mean, only on my left arm from it sitting in the window, but yeah. I suddenly feel like the old me.”

“Well, you are pretty old,” Jared quips.

“You’re not far behind, jackass.”

“What about my behind?”

Jensen laughs, shaking his head, and smiling. “You could get your behind out here with me. See for yourself that I’m perfectly fine.”

“I’d rather wait until you get yourself into trouble so I can swoop in and save you.”

“Please be my Prince Charming,” he taunts.

“Maybe someday, you jagoff.”

Jensen doesn’t say it aloud, but he wistfully thinks _hopefully someday soon._

Jensen ditches the postcards for texts. Sending much of the same pictures as he does to JJ, only with more colorful captions, blue language and flirty emoticons and all. 

As he crosses from Michigan into Ohio, he stops for gas at an oasis just outside of Toledo. He takes a photo of the highway signs directing traffic to the city, and captions it _Holy Toledo!_ in a group text to JJ, Jared, and Danneel. 

Jared replies in his own message, all caps, _DORK_

Jensen fires back _DICK_

_BIG DICK_

_Why thank you, yes it is_ with a smirky emoticon. 

_can’t believe I’m fighting with you about your dick in texts_

_we don’t have to text darling_

Just before Jensen gets back into the car, he types out, _you could just come here and fight about my dick in person_

_u r shameless_

“Look at what the cat dragged in!” Jensen calls out when he spots Jared. He stays in place against the Impala’s driver’s side door, legs and arms crossed like Dean would when acting cool. Jensen, however, is truly himself all the way down to his toes when he considers how pleased he is to have Jared heading towards him.

“You put up the bat signal,” Jared suggests, pulling his sunglasses through his hair to settle atop his head. Squinting against the sun, Jared still takes time to assess the State of Jensen. After a long moment looking up and down, and all around, Jared shrugs. “I guess you seem okay. If not totally delirious.”

“I could say the same for you, buddy. Insisting you had to come save me or some shit.”

“Someone has to.”

Jensen grins and tips his head to truly regard Jared, even if he continues to hide his excellent mood behind his sunglasses. “My goddam savior, that’s what you are.”

“You better be calling me that a lot.”

“I’ll call you anything you want, sweetheart.”

Jared grins and finally drops his bag to collide into Jensen for a solid hug. Jensen holds on tight and breathes in deep, smelling the mix of musk and sweat along the collar of Jared’s shirt. In a moment of pure happiness, Jensen ducks into the curve of Jared’s neck. Long ago memories flood him, hundreds of other hugs, yet this one is full of much more for him. It’s about companionship, a reconnection, and the need to take on the next leg of this road trip together as Jensen continues to live in a clearer, fresher state of mind. 

Following a strong pat on the back, Jared pulls back. He holds Jensen just a few inches away with his hands on Jensen’s arms and shoulders. Then looks him over from head to toe, once and then twice. “I guess you look okay.”

He recognizes Jared’s fake patronizing tone and he grins back. “Thank you, Jay. You’re not so bad yourself.” Jensen smacks Jared on the back and gets excited for the next offer: “Now, let’s hit the road!

Jared grabs his bags and circles the car to set them in the trunk. This is when Jensen opens it and watches closely as Jared recognizes the same carpeted board that was fitted to every Impala on camera. “Is this …”

Jensen smiles broadly and nudges Jared. “Go ahead.”

Slowly, Jared moves to grab at the notch in the board then lift it up to the full armory the Winchesters took with them everywhere. “I can’t believe … you’ve been driving everywhere … this is still here.”

He continues to grin at the wonderment covering Jared’s face and voice. He holds the board up so Jared can trace his fingertips over a number of guns and knives. 

Jared’s brow creases between his eyes. “This is kind of demented.”

“Only kind of?”

Jared huffs out a laugh. “And kind of awesome.”

That childlike excitement continues as Jared rounds the car to the passenger side. With every noise of the door handle clicking, the door swinging open, and the seat squeaking beneath him, Jared laughs and smiles until they’re both in the front seat. 

“It smells just like I remember,” Jared says. 

“Doesn’t it?” Jensen offers with a warm look. 

“Does it sound the same?”

“Maybe better.” He puts the key into the ignition and turns with flare, glancing at Jared for confirmation. 

As the Impala roars to life, Jared calls out a rowdy, “Whoohoo!” and slaps the dashboard with delight. “This girl is a thing of beauty.”

“That she is.”

“Jesus fuck, Jensen. This is so ridiculous,” he says, even as his voice lacks any shade of doubt for what they’re about to do.

“And it’s really fucking fun,” Jensen insists. “Trust me. The sun shines brighter on the road.”


	3. Part Three

They spend a night in Chicago, breaking one of the rules of the road with an executive room at the Hard Rock Hotel. Jared insists they celebrate the beginning of their great road trip with dinner and drinks. Jensen appreciates the sleek lines of the restaurant, along with the wide screen TVs in the bar area facing Michigan Avenue with floor-to-ceiling windows giving a clear view of the busy roadway and the park beyond it. But he itches for the tiny corner joints that boast everyday humanity, not the celebrity they’ve carried for years. 

A few folks stop them for photos, enough so that Jensen’s smile wears thin and he eyes Jared before and after every picture. Finally, Jensen steps outside for fresh air and spots a 7-11 just down the block. He snags a bottle of whiskey, caring less about the label than ever before, and eyes the long display of cigarettes behind the counter. 

With an empowering smirk, he pays for a fifteen dollar bottle of cheap ass whiskey and another twenty for a pack of Marlboros and a lighter. There’s even more freedom in opening the pack, setting a cigarette between his lips, flicking the lighter, and inhaling the first big puff. He smokes his first cigarette in years, once again returning to his youth when he snuck one every chance he could get. 

Jared finds him just to the side of the Hard Rock’s tall bar windows and shakes his head with a twisted smile. “I was wondering where you ran off to. Somehow I didn’t guess that, but I probably should have.”

“I actually went for this.” Jensen hands over the brown paper bag and watches Jared’s eyebrows lift in curiosity.

“This will probably rot my gut.”

“And come with a lot less fanfare.”

“So you didn’t run off for a pack of smokes like a bad father?”

Jensen side eyes him while taking a long drag from his cigarette. He spends a few extra seconds to blow out the dirty smoke and take another clean breath. “I wouldn’t run out on you.”

“You did once before.”

“I won’t do it again.” They share a long look and Jensen drops his head with a meaningful gaze. “Promise.”

Jared puckers his lips in thought then slips the bag back over the bottle. He holds it tightly at his side then nods towards Jensen. “So you gonna share that or what?”

Jensen smirks and steps forward. “On this trip? What’s mine is yours.” He hands over the cigarette and feels comfortable standing shoulder to shoulder as they finish the smoke and stare out onto Michigan Avenue. The traffic is loud and busy, nothing like the last two weeks that Jensen has spent on the road, but he instantly feels calm to be here with Jared, to have someone to sit shotgun on the next leg of the road to rediscovery.

Come morning, they’re hungover from their attempt to polish off that cheap bottle of whiskey. They failed at it, having already downed a few drinks before they escaped to their room, but Jensen considers it a success to have spent the evening in the quiet of their own space. The TV kept them company for hours in between Jensen’s stories on the road, filling in the spaces between his postcards and text messages. Jared spends time clearing out the pictures on his phone, insistent that he’ll need space for all the new things they’ll see as they head west. 

In a drunken delirium, Jared had giggled his way through at least five different Route 66 web sites, counting down all the tourist stops along the way. Now when they’ve retrieved the Impala from valet, Jared brings those websites up again and quietly scans his phone while they both down coffee and munch on donuts to fill their crying stomachs. 

Jared navigates them into the far Chicago suburbs to the now defunct Joliet State Prison, where they debate survival tactics against hundreds of criminals with dirty laundry. Jensen jokes about the ghosts that roam the cells, and Jared punches him on the shoulder for going there. 

“Not like we couldn’t defend ourselves, right?” Jensen jokes. “We got enough ammo in the trunk.”

Jared stares at him over the lid of his coffee. “You are aware that was all a show, right?”

Jensen lifts one eyebrow. Their entire mood is blasé at this point, still waiting for the food and coffee to bring them out of the haze of the hang over. Yet Jensen finds it more hilarious this way. “You’re the one carving shanks to hide in your armpit, and I’m the crazy one?”

“Gotta know how to protect yourself in the big house.”

“You’re a moron.”

“This moron is gonna shiv some asshole if he looks at you the wrong way.”

As flat as possible, Jensen replies, “My hero.”

“Always and forever.” As Jared takes a few snapshots with his phone, it rings. Not for the first time since he’s met up with Jensen. 

And like the few times before, Jared hesitates in answering, then never does. He denies the calls, sends them to voicemail, then gets back to whatever they’ve been doing. This time, Jensen speaks up. “You can answer it, you know?”

Jared fakes a grin, one that Jensen can see right through. “I’m out with my best friend. Who else could be calling?”

“Gen? The kids?”

“It’s fine, I’ll call them back later.” Jared slaps Jensen on the ass as he turns back towards the car. “I need more coffee and grease.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

In Braidwood, Jared begs for a stop at the Polk-a-Dot Drive-In. They pull into an empty gravel lot where the small diner stands alone on a large yet unassuming lot tucked into a small-town residential block. There he sees them … Elvis, Marilyn, James Dean, and Betty Boop. Four statues posted on the side of the building in their most renowned stances, including Marilyn’s wind-blown dress barely kept down by her hands, or the King swaying his hips to the beat of _Hound Dog_. 

Jared is downright delighted and mischievous when he gets out of the car and sets his feet on the white stones that crunch beneath him. Moments later, he’s posing beside Elvis with his hands out, right knee pitched high, and standing on the tip toes of his left. 

Jensen beams as he watches Jared play act to each character, and finally brings his phone out to capture Jared a la Marilyn. The look is completed with a sweet look of shock at nearly flashing his undergarments. 

At Jared’s insistence, Jensen joins the statues so it can be captured on film. Eventually he just leans against Elvis with a cool smirk, arm pitched against the man’s shoulder. But Jared finally catches a slick moment when Jensen fakes looking under Marilyn’s dress, capturing a dozen seconds of Jensen looking, leering, then winking with satisfaction.

A little further south, their bodies are happier with refills on juice and water along with McDonald’s breakfast burritos and coffee. Jensen’s mouth waters with the need for cheese and eggs fired up hot despite it being nearly lunch time. 

“All day breakfast, my friend,” Jensen jokes. 

“Kiss my ass,” Jared mumbles while biting off half a burrito.

“So glad McDonald’s had all day breakfast to save us.”

Around a mess of food in his mouth, Jared fires back, “Suck my dick.”

“Maybe once I’m done with this delicious breakfast burrito, thanks to McDonald’s all day breakfast.”

Jared laughs while trying to eat, choking a little on his food, and Jensen joins in with the laughter. They get sillier with the lack of sleep and coffee finally kicking in.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done without it. What a life saver, Jared.”

“Shut your mouth and keep driving,” Jared complains, “we’re almost at the next stop.”

He wants to ask what it is that Jared has on his phone, but he thinks it’ll be better to discover it for himself. And it takes a bit to realize what they’re aiming for in the tiny town of Colinsville. Its downtown street looks like any they’ve filmed on back for Supernatural, including bright green foliage on the right hand side for what the town calls a park. The bushes then stop for a tiny stone center area that pushes back on the lot to give way to a twenty foot tall statue. 

He looks kind of like Paul Bunyan, which Jared explains was his very name when he lived back closer to Chicago. Still on Route 66, Paul Bunyan stood at the entry to a hot dog shop, also called Bunyon’s though spelled differently, and had been a staple in the area before the restaurant closed down. 

Instead of holding an axe, though, he’s got a giant hot dog in his hands. The hot dog alone is ten feet long and Jensen makes a few faces as he thinks about what to say as they stand in front of it. 

“That’s a huge hot dog.”

“I’ve never seen a weiner that big.”

Without a word, Jared goes for his belt, getting his pants and underwear down before Jensen is fully aware of what’s happening, and then he’s staring at Jared’s dick. Through the shock, Jensen attempts to act nonchalant. He’s sure he fails when he feels his cheeks blaze, but he just laughs and walks back to the car, leaving Jared to stand alone with his dick hanging out. 

“Hey wait up!” Jared shouts, shuffling behind and trying to get himself dressed again.

Another hour southwest and Springfield gives them the famous Cozy Dog. The concoction is the simple equation of a hot dog, thick and creaming batter, and a deep fryer. It’s the first place to ever cook up and sell a corn dog, and they own every bit of bragging rights, Jensen thinks, because the breading makes it worth the stop. 

He daydreams of heading on forward through the night, but even with Jared taking over the wheel for half the day, it’s taken them twelve hours to finally reach St. Louis and the world’s largest ketchup bottle. They can’t get anywhere near it, so they stay in the car to stare up at it from through windshield. 

Jared leans all the way across the dash for pictures while Jensen shakes his head in disappointment. “This is pretty lame.”

“It’s just a water tower,” Jared adds with the same quiet, disappointed tone. 

“There’s not even ketchup in it.”

Suddenly, Jared giggles, and it doesn’t stop there. Jensen joins him as they joke about how many tomatoes it would take to fill the water tower that’s dressed up like a ketchup bottle for a local bottling company.

Tears streak Jensen’s cheeks, which burn with the constant stretch of their smiles and laughter for a solid five minutes. He feels deliriously happy, and tired, but mostly just happy with Jared right here.

Jared becomes obsessed with the Muffler Men, searching on his phone for every location and stylistic difference among them. He huffs loudly, sounding more terrified than mad or even amused. “Jesus, there’s one in Albuquerque with no arms.”

“Where?” Jensen asks, leaning over to see the phone.

He nudges Jensen’s face forward. “Eyes on the road, De Niro.”

“Okay, Miss Daisy.”

Jared finally looks away from the screen to grin at him. “You’re totally my bitch, driving me around everywhere.”

Jensen narrows his eyes, purses his lips, even while he’s tickled with happiness to be in this very situation with his best friend sitting shotgun. “You’re the bitch, bitch.”

“Okay, _Dean_.”

He finally laughs, leaning over and aim a warm smile at Jared. “Only took you three days.”

It’s a bit surprising when Jared returns the smile and winks. Not because it happens, but because of how it makes Jensen think he’s slipped back in time, to a place and time he’s always needed. “I’ve been saying it for three days. You just weren’t listening.”

“Well, I am now.”

Jared’s phone shrills, prompting them both to look at it. From this angle, Jensen can just barely make out _Gen_ , but he can’t tell why Jared forces it to voicemail. Again. He’s about to ask when Jared clears his throat.

Jared bites the corner of his mouth while he continues reading his phone then speaks after a short silences. “Okay, so get this …”

They spend a few days in and around St. Louis, grabbing last-minute tickets for a Blues game, even buying blue and gold hockey jerseys and cheering on the forever-underdogs that can’t catch up in the final minutes. Jensen hollers from their seats in the end zone and Jared flags down beer vendors whenever he can. The cool alcohol eases Jensen’s hoarse throat until it’s time to leave with the throngs of disappointed fans clogging the exits. 

Now he has Jared’s arm slung around his neck, and Jared’s overheated and sweaty body against his side, plus the booze makes him stumbles every few feet. Jensen’s mouth is dry and his mind blank like the dark sky above them with nary a star in sight. 

Miraculously, Jared guides them to the car despite the amount of beer they’ve inhaled. They collapse against the trunk, and rest and breathe and just stare at the hordes of cars emptying the asphalt lot. 

“We need a place to sleep,” Jared points out as he slides onto the trunk and rests back. 

Jensen sways with the shaking of the car then slaps Jared’s knee beside him. “That we do.” 

“Can you even drive?”

He does his best to keep a burp down, but it makes a louder hiccupy sound. Jared laughs at it, which makes Jensen chuckle and swat at Jared’s leg. 

“I’m guessing that’s a no,” Jared says flatly.

“You’re the one who bought all the beer.”

“It was a good idea at the time.”

Jensen’s phone vibrates in his pocket, and as he grabs for it, mumbles, “Mm, yeah, that’s what they all say.” He misses Jared’s retort as he receives a photo text from JJ with a grey fluffball smooshed against her cheek.

**SAY HI TO KING LOUIE! Mama found him hanging out down the drive so Im nursin him back to health**

Jensen huffs. “My baby has a baby.” 

“Your what now?” Jared asks while shifting forward. He’s half on the trunk but mostly hanging onto Jensen’s shoulders and back to look at the message himself. 

“My baby has a baby,” he repeats with more fondness in his words. 

“What is it?” Jared shifts around with his chin hooked over Jensen’s shoulder and his arms over Jensen’s to hold the phone at different angles. “Is it a cat? Or giant mouse?”

Jensen makes a thoughtful noise. “I thought it was a dog.” 

Belatedly, he realizes his head is resting alongside Jared’s, cheeks rubbing together along with messy strands of Jared’s hair. The fresh air is now full of salty sweat and something underlying that Jensen has always known as _Jared_. He breathes deep, reliving the scent he’d learned well from their time spent across the border. 

His heart beats a little unsteady, faster, too. He’s not entirely sure what it means to have this reaction to someone who’d lived at his side for fifteen-plus years. Then again, he can blame the alcohol and sweet reminiscing they’ve had over these last few days. Maybe blame a bit on his long bout with loneliness. Because having someone in his space again is comforting, and not just physically. Sure, he can feel the heat from Jared’s body and the strength of Jared’s chest pressed tight to his back. But when Jensen breathes in deep, his chest no longer feels hollow. 

Distracted by all these thoughts swirling to darker places unknown, Jensen next spies JJ’s smiling mug on his phone with Jared starting up a video call. 

“Hey babygirl!” Jared sing-songs. “You gotta solve a bet between me and your daddy.”

JJ grins with her new pet resting on her chest. From this angle and at this hour, she must be in bed already. “Okay! Shoot!”

“What kind of mangy pest did you snatch off the streets?”

Jensen laughs instantly, glowing with the animated way JJ and Jared interact through the phone. 

When they finally nab themselves a motel just to the west of the city, Jensen can still feel the drape of Jared’s body across his back. Has second thoughts to move to the other queen bed so he can relive the weight of his friend alongside him. Instead, he tucks the blankets around his back, enveloping himself as tightly as he can.

Jensen feels the hit to his ass before the words make their way to his brain. 

“Hey, get up, lazy ass!” Jared smacks him again and roughly shucks up his hair. “I got a hot date planned for us.”

Jensen surprises even himself with the speed that he jumps out of bed to tackle Jared onto the other mattress. Jared’s eyes are blown wide with his mouth hanging open when Jensen’s got him held down to the bed, yet just a few seconds later, Jared flops them over to the side and cranes one of those insanely long legs around Jensen’s knee to trap him in place. 

When Jared toothily smiles, Jensen knows he’s remembering all those wrestling matches out on the con circuit. “It’s been a long time for you, old man.”

“About as long since you broke your shoulder on a midget.”

Jared huffs out a laugh, which puts him off his mark and Jensen manages to slide over Jared’s back to get him in a headlock. “Who you callin’ old man now?” he crows just before tightening his hold around Jared’s neck

“Okay! Okay! I give. But only because your morning wood is drilling a hole in my back.”

Jensen laughs and heaves his body further onto Jared just to harass him more. Moments pass before it all meshes with the memories of the night before with Jared tucked tight against him. 

“Dude, you could buy me breakfast first.”

“You’re so easy,” Jensen jokes on his way to the bathroom, fully ignoring how pink Jared’s cheeks are or how flushed his own body feels.

Especially when Jared shoots back, “All you have you do is ask, babe.”


	4. Part Four

Jared steers the Impala to Stanton for a trail of caves nicknamed _Missouri’s Buried Treasure_. Jensen checks the map to keep them on course, even looking further beyond into the state.

“There’s a Devil’s Elbow,” he points out slowly.

“Well, if the Winchesters are going anywhere …”

Jensen doesn’t argue. After a long walk through the underground limestone caverns beneath the Meramec Valley, he directs Jared to continue west on I-44. They get tangled through rugged stretches of road that move in and around the upland part of the Ozark Mountains until eventually coming to a halt at the very spot they were hoping to catch. 

“It says ‘Devil’s Elbow comes from a section of the Big Piney River that turns so acutely it caused repeated logjams’.” Jensen makes a noise while staring at the words on his phone screen. “Probably should’ve read that before we came here.”

“You think?” 

“Okay, but up ahead is the Elbow Inn.”

“Is that another traffic jam?”

Jensen narrows his eyes. “No, you ass. It’s a biker bar. And I quote ‘with cans of cold beer and lots of bras pinned to the ceiling’.”

“This’ll be worth the whole trip.” Jared grins at him with such satisfaction that Jensen is a bit worried about what’s going on inside Jared’s skull.

“Oh, really?”

“Watching Jensen Ackles hang his bra up in a biker bar? Dreams comin’ true.”

When Jared winks at him, Jensen wishes he had a good old fashioned map in hand to swat Jared in the face. His hand does enough of the trick, even when Jared tries biting at his fingers.

They stop in Carthage for a slow roll through the classically idyllic downtown that could be home to any number of 50s and 60s sitcoms, and Jared suggests hanging their hat for the night at the Boots Motel. Neither of them blink at the art deco inspired by the late 1940s when it was built. 

“Looks about that old,” Jared mumbles as they get out of the Impala.

Once Jensen’s got the passenger side door closed, he rubs his palm across the side of it. “You think she’s safe here?”

“Aww,” Jared coos.

Jensen tuts with a “Shut up” under his breath.

Now Jared drags his fingers over the hood of the car while taunting Jensen. “Mom is so sweet when she worries about you.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Would love to.”

In the lobby, Jensen slows down at the rack of tourist fliers in the lobby while Jared gets them a room. He settles on a few to ponder over dinner when Jared leans against his side to check out the spread. 

“Anything good?”

“Drive-in?” Jensen offers while waving the glossy half-sheet. 

Jared smirks at him. “You’re so adorable.”

He ignores Jared’s plucky attitude. “Opens at eight, movie’s just after nine. Plenty of time to stuff you full of popcorn.”

“You know the way to a man’s heart.”

It works, for both of them. They fill up on fresh buttery popcorn while stretching out on the hood of the Impala. Leaning back on the windshield isn’t terribly comfortable, but they use extra t-shirts for pillows and watch the sun switch from a merry blue to a golden orange with the sun setting off to the side. 

Jensen glances over and sees himself reflected in Jared’s shades. He’s unsure if Jared’s eyes are open behind the lenses. Still, he takes the time to watch the light fade on the canvas of Jared’s tanned face. 

There’s a chill in the air, but Jensen’s overcome with warmth. Suddenly he murmurs, “Thanks for coming.”

He can see the bulge in Jared’s throat when he swallows, then counts off the seconds until a reply finally comes. “And thanks for havin’ me.”

Compelled to avoid a wandering quiet where his brain won’t sit still, he keeps on talking. “Bein’ here. It’s nice like this, right?”

“Of course.”

“You want a beer or something?”

“You offerin’?”

Jensen snorts. “I think that’s why I asked.” He turns to roll off the hood, but Jared’s arm around his elbow stops him. He’s reeled back into place with Jared tsking him. 

“Stop fussin’ around. You’re ruining the moment.” Jared lifts his sunglasses and Jensen is eased by the green hues of Jared’s eyes, glowing in what’s left of the setting sun. “Just stay here for a bit, yeah?”

Jensen slowly nods, his smile coming even later. “Yeah, of course.” 

They’re settled in hip to hip as Jensen’s _Whatever you want_ goes unsaid.

Just before leaving Oklahoma for the New Mexico border, they stop for the night. Long hours on the road are weighing on the both of them and the giant Braum’s Milk Bottle stands as the last feature they capture before calling it a day. Back in Oklahoma City, the old corner store boasted little in the ways of location or attraction with one story of simple red brick. Jared made Jensen pose in any number of ways that will make them roll their eyes in a few days: holding the milk bottle up, pretending to crush it between his finger and thumb, and even letting Jared crouch down to get the right angle so it appeared Jensen towered over the thing. 

The day was quiet from top to bottom, save a few lively conversations at the 80-foot Blue Whale back in Catoosa. Jensen had dared Jared to walk through the monstrosity and jump into the adjacent pond. Eating at the nearby picnic area had been nice in the warmth of mid-afternoon, but they’d soon fallen into more companionable silence. 

Even if Jensen was suddenly dying for noise, which brought them to Rhonda’s Longhorn Bar in Elk City. Jokes flew by without effort at the woman’s name—tying it back to Dean and pink lace, of course—and the southern honor of a longhorn. Still, Jensen recognized it when Jared avoided phone calls and texts, and fell back into a sulky silence. 

When Jensen returns to the table, he attempts to gather some real attention and conversation. He sets his beer down on the table loud enough it shakes Jared away from reading his phone. “She can read palms.” 

Jared rolls his eyes, not even bothering to look at the busty blonde at the bar who’d tried to finagle them into buying her a drink. Jensen saw through her fluttering eyelashes, but he’d still been entertained enough to listen to her spiel. “No she can't. “

Sliding into the booth, Jensen huffs. “Sure she can. She sat there and read mine.” 

“And what's it say?”

“It doesn't say anything. You have to read it, Einstein.”

Rolling his eyes again, Jared pockets his phone to stare at Jensen. “Okay then what'd it read?”

Jensen smirks and readies his beer to drink before announcing, “It read that I'm a terrible romantic yet plagued in the heart.”

“Not like she couldn't tell that by reading your IMDB profile.”

He narrows his eyes and can tell Jared is avoiding eye contact and fiddling with his drink. Jensen sourly twists his lips to the side. “You're grouchy.”

Jared is unimpressed and blasé when he replies, “And you're gullible.” 

Jensen spreads his hands out on the table top. “Why're you so grouchy tonight?” 

“She wasn't reading your palm. She just wanted to hold your hand.”

Jensen lifts an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

“Of your pea brain? Not hardly.”

“No, of my palm reading.”

Jared takes his time to drink, putting more tension between them. “So you're plagued in the heart? I couldn't tell.” 

“Grouchy,” Jensen announces again before finishing off his beer.

“And terrible at being romantic?” he continues, “Definitely.”

“So grouchy. We need another drink. Drink? ‘Yeah, sure Jensen. Thank you very much for keeping me from slitting my wrists because I'm so grouchy’.” 

Jared drags a hand over his face and blankly stares at the wall. “I'm not grouchy. I'm just tired.” 

Jensen wants to keep ragging on Jared for his foul mood, but he feels something tip to the side with what’s really causing this tension. “Of what?”

“Of being on the road and not sleeping. I miss my bed.”

It hits him in the gut. Being together the last two weeks have been some of the best in Jensen’s recent memories, but Jared is growing tired of it. Of him, maybe. “And the kids.” 

“And my kids,” Jared agrees with a nod.

Now his stomach twists and his back hurts, so he has to sit back and put space between him and the facts. “And your wife.”

Jared pauses, signals for the waitress in lieu of answering. He won’t look at Jensen, now distracted by something on the TV above Jensen’s head. 

“Alright what's the deal?”

“About?”

Jensen holds his breath yet finds that he has to ask. “About you and Gen, and you being grouchy?”

“It's nothing. Just. Same ol, and all that.” 

“It's not the same ol' Jay and Gen I know,” he reasons. Because the couple he watched come together, marry, and start a family were emotionally inseparable. Not even half of those missed calls would go to voicemail. And especially not without an immediate call back or text in apology.

Jared swallows hard enough that Jensen can see the lump in his throat. “Yeah well … that Jay and Gen … they died a few years ago.” 

He sits up and forward, finding himself afraid to hear more yet dying for all the answers. Especially after spending the last five days with Jared and not hearing a word of this before. “What?”

“They're gone. Vanished. Buried in the middle of the night. Never to be heard from again.” 

“What do you mean they're gone? Since when?”

Jared huffs and shrugs. “Since a long while ago. Since you stopped returning my phone calls or bothering to keep up with us.” 

Jensen feels the hit right in his chest and frowns. “So it's my fault?”

“No. C’mon. I'm not saying that.” 

Now Jensen huffs and shakes his head. “But you're still saying I'm an asshole.”

“Sometimes,” Jared admits, “yeah. And about this? A little bit.” 

“How's that?”

“Because you dropped off the radar and a lot has changed. You didn’t care about sticking around, so what’s the difference now?”

“A lot is different now.” And Jensen feels it deep into his bones. His lungs struggle to take in air because he hates the thought that Jared hasn’t felt them coming back together this last week.

“You wouldn't get it.” 

“Try me,” he says with the straightest look he can manage. He wants to know more, wants to help Jared.

Jared fiddles with his empty beer glass and keeps his eyes down low, avoiding Jensen’s intense stare. “We're just. It's not the same. We're not the same. The marriage and the kids and being home. It's not the same. Not like it used to be.” 

Jensen knows that far too well. “Back when family was a vacation from home.” Home being the show. And Vancouver. And each other, really.

“Yeah. Kinda like that.” 

“I get it.” Jared huffs and Jensen presses on. “I really do. I mean … look at my life. At me and Danneel. I get it.”

He sighs and licks his lips before taking a long drag of beer. “I guess you do.” 

“I lived it myself, if you remember,” he jokes, but it falls flat. Flat with Jared, and Jensen himself as he recalls the darker days of isolation and emptiness after his career was over.

“I do,” Jared says quietly. “It wasn't very good.” 

“That's putting it kindly.” 

Then like a smack across the face, Jared admits, “We're separated.”

He watches Jared and notices that the guy is avoiding Jensen’s eyes keeps trying to catch a glimpse of his reaction. “What?”

After a few false starts where Jared has to clear his throat and turn away, he finally explains, “We're separated, though still living together. Same house and all that. Trying to keep up good appearances for the kids, at least until they’re going off to college or whatever. She's been seeing someone else for a bit and I pretend I don't want to.” 

A flash of jealousy cuts deep in his gut followed by confusion because he’s not sure why he cares about Jared being interested in someone. He disappeared from Jared’s life and left him alone. And far longer before then, he’d put the brakes on anything _real_ between them. He doesn’t have any right to be possessive, and yet … “Anyone specific?”

“Not that I'd disclose right now.” 

“Fuck, man.” Jensen rubs his face with both hands to get a hold of his emotions, keeps his eyes covered so he doesn’t have to see Jared right now as he battles through a thousand old feelings. “You're supposed to be the smart one here.” 

“Why's that?”

“Because you just are. You know.”

“No, I don't.” 

He pulls his hands down a little. His eyes feel heavy like he wants to cry, and he hates reliving that particular emotion now. “You're not supposed to make the same mistakes I did.

“I'm trying not to,” Jared insists while leaning over the table, lowering his voice for the privacy that they should’ve had at least five minutes ago when this conversation started. “That's why I'm still there. I mean. The kids. I can't leave them. I wouldn't dare.” 

“Already smarter than me.” 

“That's not what I mean.” 

“Doesn’t matter if you mean it or not,” he says with a sad smile. “Me? I broke Danneel's heart. And JJ's along with it. You don't wreck the marriage without hurting everyone. It's inevitable.” 

“I'm trying not to. I’m trying to be enough for them.” 

Jensen frowns as he imagines the kind of weight Jared is living under, especially with the breadth of anxiety Jared has faced for a long while.

The waitress finally brings a fresh round and Jensen is thankful for the break. And Jared must be too, because he downs a third of his beer immediately then sucks in a deep breath, releasing it just as loudly. Jensen attempts to lighten the mood with a frustrated smile. “Just avoid carving out her heart with a spoon.” 

Jared chuckles at the idea. “A spoon?”

“It's dull. Took longer, hurt more. She’s still trying to heal.” 

“But you get along.” 

“Just barely,” he admits while trying to find the bright side to how he’s been trying lately.

Jared makes a face. “I mean JJ.” 

Jensen shakes his head before drinking. “Yeah, me too.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jared insists, trying to comfort him, but it’s not much.

“Of course it is,” he admits with a sour laugh. “I’m her father, and I broke her mother’s heart then disappeared from her life.”

“You didn’t disappear entirely. You’re still there.”

“Well now I am, sure. But it doesn’t make up for everything.”

“It can help,” Jared suggests, somber and distracted with his beer. When Jensen remains quiet, he looks up and shrugs. “It’s helping here, now, with us.”

Jensen narrows his eyes, watching Jared carefully, trying not to admire the way Jared’s lips wrap around the rim of the beer glass. Or the way his throat works through the swallow. Or even how his eyes are bright and intent on him when he looks to Jensen again. “Is it?”

“Yeah, of course,” he agrees quietly and a little too easily.

“You so sure? I mean, the last few days have kind of lost the luster we had when you first came out here.”

Jared laughs, a bit annoyed, kind of like Sam always did when tired of his brother. “Route 66 has kind of lost its luster.”

“I didn’t know that was possible.” After a moment, he jokes, “You sure it’s not just me?”

“God, you’re selfish.”

Jensen recognizes that Jared’s not amused, that he’s still got a thorn in his side. He considers tearing it out, no matter how messy. This trip has been as much of an escape as it has been a treasure hunt to dig deep for what he really wants. “Whose fault is it?”

Jared blinks a few times before opening his mouth. “Whose fault for what?”

Tearing at the band-aid, Jensen bluntly asks, “For you and Gen?”

With a huff, Jared grabs his beer. “Why’s it got to be someone’s fault?”

“Because I know how you think, and you’re definitely blaming someone for this.” Jensen is sure it’s Jared … Jared blaming himself for whatever did or didn’t happen. Either way, he wants to get to the bottom of this now that it’s on the table. 

“Is that what you want to hear?” Jared complains, growing louder as he goes on. “That I fucked up? That my chaotic mind screwed over everything good in my life and that I can’t keep a lid on things long enough to keep my marriage in tact?”

Jensen leans back in his seat, blown away with the anger in Jared’s eyes when he glares over the rim of his glass. “That’s not what I wanted to hear. Not at all.”

“Yeah, don’t be so sure of yourself, Ackles. You’ve always thought too much about what I was doing.”

He flinches at the accusation then rises to the argument by leaning over the table again. “Excuse me?”

“Whatever. This is all dumb. This conversation and this trip. Me, you, all dumb.” Jared’s up to his feet in an instant, throwing money on the table and walking away.

Jared marches into the motel room and tries to slam the door shut before Jensen can get through, but Jensen kicks at the bottom to stop the door from closing on him. Then he tosses the door open even harder so it knocks against the wall, paint and drywall chipping in a messy circle around the knob. 

“Just tell me what the hell happened!” Jensen demands. Like he would in the past when he had the right to demand such things. Jared reminds him it’s not like that anymore.

“Just like how you told me what happened to you?”

He takes a calming breath, though it’s not very successful because he still feels his nerves rattling beneath his skin, blood pumping too fast. “I tried, but you didn’t exactly listen.”

“When?” Jared shouts, taking the barb harder than Jensen had intended. “When did you try and when didn’t I listen? I’m always here to listen.”

In anger, Jensen yanks off his jacket and throws it at his bed because he can’t imagine creating more damage in this room. No matter how cheap it’ll be to fix in a flea bag gutter like this, he’s not up for starting trouble just because he and Jared aren’t jiving like he’d thought they were. 

“Go ahead, Jensen. Tell me when you so perfectly sat me down to talk about whatever the fuck is wrong with you.”

He growls at Jared’s tone and finally lays it out. “After that trip to Italy. Just before Danneel and I split. I tried to tell you, but it didn’t really work. I called you a few times, you were always busy, I couldn’t even get you to sit down in front of me. That’s when I knew everything was over, for everyone.”

Jared’s nostrils flare with barely controlled rage and he adjusts his stance more defensively. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You knew how to readjust, and you were doing it perfectly. Me? I’m the fucked up one who was buried too deep in the job and what it meant.” Jensen takes a deep breath and looks for something to kick or sweep off a desk, but he just aimlessly turns in either direction, going dizzy with the quick movements. “And being back with our families, trying to readjust, that was impossible. You needed them more than you needed me. While that’s all I needed to have. To stay right with you. How the hell could I tell you all that? ”

“You should’ve told me about that, Jesus.” Jared paces between Jensen and the bathroom, wrestling his hands through his hair and chewing on his lower lip. 

Jensen’s nerves twist with the guilt of how he’s felt all these years. For all the maniacal thoughts that ravaged his brain, tore him down to the empty mess he’d been before starting this road trip. “I couldn’t tell you all of it, not really. Not when you were finally good yourself.”

Jared stops in the middle of the room, eyebrows bent far down, and mouth in a flat line. “What? Because I was finally good?”

“With all the shit you’ve been through?” Jensen huffs, at himself, at Jared, at the whole situation. He knows he’s growing selfish in this, hell he realized that a long time ago, but now he finally just wants to get it all out. Wants to be heard and understood. “And I was always there for you. I never backed away when you needed me, I never left you alone. But I couldn’t turn around and dump it on you when I needed it!”

Jared steps closer with a hand on his chest. He shakes his head and his voice goes low and serious. “So this is _my_ fault?”

“No! I’m not saying that!” Jensen insists, but he knows it’s impossible to really describe it all when he’s on the verge of actually doing admitting it. “I just didn’t want to deal with putting all my shit on you and having you get all sick again.”

“So it _is_ my fault.” Jared angrily laughs and steps up close to stare right into Jensen’s eyes. “I’m so sorry my burden was hard for you to manage.”

“Jesus, no,” Jensen whines, “that’s not what I meant. Fuck, man, you’re everything for me. You have been since 2004, and suddenly, I felt like I couldn’t own you anymore. I couldn’t be selfish about it anymore. I mean, you had Gen and Tom and Shep to keep you happy, and you _were_!”

He glances away with a pert, shitty smile, and Jensen knows he deserves the ultra pissy tone to come next. “But I didn’t have my best friend anymore. I didn’t have you, and maybe that’s me being selfish, but I fucking needed you around, too. I needed you to talk to me and tell me what the hell was going on so I didn’t have to blame myself for whatever was fucking you up.”

Jensen’s blood burns ice cold at the thought of Jared shouldering the blame for Jensen going off the rails. He did it all by his lonesome. That’s what he told Danneel, and exactly why he didn’t fight her when she said she needed to live her own life now after spending a decade tied to him with only one foot in the door the whole time. Why he followed her to Louisiana, let her make the decisions, and just remained a step away to help with whatever JJ wanted to make sure he didn’t give up on her. 

Jared, he never intended to give up on him. Never thought much further than burrowing deep into his own emotions and living in a state of ignorance as time flew by. Sunk his head into the sand so he could existing in sepia-toned memories rather than face what was outside the walls of his house.

He suddenly wonders if he’d care as much for this conversation a month ago, before he stepped into his garage to undress Baby and get her on the road again. Get himself moving, too, and find a way to walk again. 

Maybe he wouldn’t have, but he’s thankful to be having it now when it means something. When he’s spent a hundred hours with his best friend, reliving their greatest hits, making new memories, and reigniting the fire that blew out soon after the show ended. 

Jensen needs Jared to know all of these things yet he doesn’t know how to say it. The words die somewhere before his lips get the chance to say them, so he just lets his hands fall on Jared’s chest. Tired and beaten, he sighs and barely meets Jared’s eyes. 

“It was never you.”

“How would I know that?” Jared asks with a shaky voice. “You couldn’t even tell me about it. Couldn’t say it wasn’t me that you were leaving.”

With a few inches of Winchester honesty and bravado, Jensen holds Jared’s face so they are eye to eye. “It was never you that I left. I never wanted anything other than you.”

Jared’s eyes grow red and wet as he continues to stare at Jensen and hold his breath. 

“I just couldn’t do it anymore on my own. Fourteen years next to you was easy, and suddenly a year with space between us, even just a few days here and there? It was foreign to me and left a hole in my gut. We weren’t working anymore and I lost all motivation for what else there was in life. Without the show? Without you? What the hell was the point? That’s what it all was. I couldn’t handle it, didn’t know how to talk about it, and you went on with life, with your family, so I couldn’t let me bring you down.”

“You wouldn’t have.” Jared has to clear his throat through the emotion. Wrinkles his nose, which is growing pink along with his cheeks. “You never did.”

Jensen slides his fingers over wayward strands on Jared’s temple, tucks them behind his ear, and manages a smile that hurts just as much as it does to see Jared broken over him. “It didn’t go that way in my head. It was all about what others needed, and you didn’t need me bitching and crying over what I was missing from being Dean, or from being around you all the time. I was home with my family, that’s what I was supposed to need, but it wasn’t right. It was always about what we had going for all those years.”

Before Jensen can catch his breath, Jared's kissing him. Mouth firmly snug against Jensen’s and his hands coming up in the air yet never making it to touch Jensen’s face. 

Jensen sucks in a breath, thinks back on all his unearthly dreams of reliving their kiss from eons ago and sinks into it. He grabs hold to Jared’s face and brings him closer, tilts his head and presses his lips tight to Jared's, and allows himself this moment he's been hungry for since they first met. 

Just the two of them, no other obligations handing around, no show to keep their priorities straight. Just Jared and Jensen the way they've always wanted to be.

And Jared must feel that, too, because instead of pulling away, he winds his arms around Jensen and opens his lips. His tongue presses against Jensen’s lips, and Jensen calls himself all the dumb names in the book for not bothering to let him in sooner. Immediately, their tongues are tangling wide and deep in each other’s mouths, breathing growing louder and needier the longer they kiss. 

His blood boils, skin tingling all over, and his dick takes note of how hard and fervent the kiss is growing. Then Jared presses himself closer and Jensen can feel Jared is having the very same reaction with his dick snugged up to Jensen’s hip like it belongs there. And as Jensen tips his hips forward to get even closer to Jared, he thinks maybe it really does belong right there because his dick is pounding, crying for relief. His mind immediately begs to just rub off on Jared this instant, standing upright and fully clothed, to get the immediate release. Maybe they’ll mess around more once they’ve recovered, maybe they’ll spend the next twenty four hours in bed and learn every square inch of each other.

Or maybe Jensen is stuck in another one of his irrational dreams and needs to step back, take a breath, and straighten himself out. He does just that and stares at Jared, who now appears torn up and flushed all over. 

“Jared,” he whispers as a warning or plea. He’s not really sure. 

Jared just shakes his head and tilts his head towards him again. “It’s always been this. I’ve always been waiting.”

“Twenty two years,” he mumbles as his head spins over the thought that Jared has exhibited such admirable patience and loyalty to keep that flame going. 

Still patient to this day, Jared slowly brings his hand up to cup Jensen’s face. He’s testing the waters, Jensen knows, and he also knows that Jared needs him to take the next step. So Jensen mirrors the touch with his palm against Jared’s scruff, the rough hair tickling and jabbing his skin to ground Jensen in this moment. Then Jensen rubs his thumb down the curve of Jared’s cheekbones and to the corner of his mouth as he takes in all of Jared’s wondrous, waiting eyes. 

Jared nudges into Jensen’s hold and kisses the pad of his thumb, and Jensen thinks his heart will explode at the tenderness in Jared’s lips. 

“C’mere,” Jensen whispers, drawing Jared in for another kiss. They’re less hurried and rough. Take time to explore each other’s mouths and let soft touches drag over shoulders and arms and back, until Jensen guides them to the nearest bed. He can’t decide if he wants to climb all over Jared or let Jared crawl over him, envelope all of him and hold him safe and warm like that night after the Blues game. 

Then he figures if they wade through these waters just right, they’ll have time enough to do it all. 

They split the burden and settle on the cheap, scratchy comforter side by side, kissing deep again now that the excitement is back for what they’re running towards. Jared’s hand travels over Jensen’s hip and grabs his ass, tugs him closer, and brings his own leg over Jensen’s knee to bring their hips together. 

Jensen slips fingers through Jared’s hair and twists around the locks. He tugs and pulls, careful yet meaningful, directing their kiss as they rock together, and maybe all they’ll get to right now is a lot of over-the-clothes action. And maybe for how juvenile Jensen has dealt with this topic, this all he really deserves right now, or is capable of. 

He’s proven wrong when Jared dips his fingers inside he back of Jensen’s jeans, finger tips pressing tight into line of Jensen’s ass. Jared’s fingers are sure and purposeful, surprising Jensen into a round of shivers and stutters, before his pants dampen damp with pre-come. It’s been a long damn time since he’s touched someone else, since his body’s reacted to the warmth of a touch that wasn’t his own, and he thinks he’ll break far too early from the excitement of it all. So he pulls back, holding Jared’s chin, and tries to laugh through the tension that’s crackling inside. 

“Jared, wait, hang on,” he pants out. When Jared frowns and slips back, Jensen laughs again and drops a quick kiss of reassurance. “I just want to wait, just a minute, or else it’s gonna be really messy, really quick.”

As it registers for Jared, he smirks and chuckles at Jensen. Even teases his fingers back down Jensen’s crack. Again, Jensen reaches for Jared’s mouth, wants to dive right back into the madness, but he also has enough sense of mind to not let the kisses last long enough to go anywhere past where they already are. Jared catches on and removes his hand from the back of Jensen’s pants, only to bring it to the front with the question written all over his face. 

“Oh God,” Jensen sighs with his eyes sliding shut.

Jared nips at his lower lip, whispers, “We’ll do it together. Then the mess, no matter how fast, will be worth it.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Maybe later,” Jared says into another kiss. 

And it’s just as Jared has offered, undressing and getting messy together, with his hand wrapped around both of their dicks while Jensen hangs on to Jared’s neck and cries out like he’s hurt. It’s anything but painful as Jared licks his palm time and time again to ease the way, as he tugs quick and fast, as he rubs his thumb over the tip of Jensen’s dick just before they’re done. 

As Jensen fights to catch his breath, he logs the mess of their clothes. Wrinkled and pushed aside but still wet with the results of twenty-two years of love and companionship waiting for its time to emerge. 

He’s exhausted in the afterglow, lets himself slip deep into it, along with Jared’s arms, and looks forward to waking up.


	5. Part Five

The shower wakes Dean. More specifically, the _thunk_ of the faucet being turned off and the loud metallic shrill of the curtain being pulled open. He thinks of having to shower and hitting the road again, grabbing something resembling breakfast on the road before they hit the next town. 

He rubs his face against the rough pillowcase as he tries to gather enough energy to get up and going. 

The bathroom door opens, footsteps following, and Dean breathes deeply. He pushes the blankets off as he grows warmer by the second in this stuffy hotel room, but doesn’t do much more.

There’s a low chuckle. Then a voice he nearly didn’t expect. “I see you moving, jackass. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Jensen blinks fully awake and shifts over to stare at Jared standing by the sink with only a towel wrapped around his hips. 

Memories of last night flash quickly, replacing the moment where Jensen thought he was dreaming as Dean again. It’s a better wake-up, surely, yet he’s still a bit confused by the mistake his brain made. 

“Are you okay?” Jared asks, sounding timid. And maybe worried for himself, as well. 

“Yeah, I just …” Jensen rolls to his back and wipes his face quickly to fully waken. “Had a weird dream or something.”

“Like last night?”

He sees the concern crease Jared’s face, and Jensen immediately wants to kiss it away. Which should be of comfort to Jared if he’s worried Jensen files last night away in the mistake category. 

“No, not that,” he assures Jared while getting out of bed. He closes the space between them to hug Jared, arms tight around his back, ears pressed together to touch every possible inch. Jared belatedly hugs him back, eventually holding as tightly for long moments. Pulling back just a bit, Jensen considers Jared’s face, is happy to see it’s no longer twisted with concern, and kisses the side of his mouth. “I’ll shower then tell you about it at breakfast.”

Freedom on the road is not just Jensen feeling his arms stretch out and letting the wind whip through his hair. It’s sitting with Jared in a grease-pit diner that boasts a six dollar plate of two by two by two by two. Eggs, bacon, sausage, _and_ cheesy potatoes. 

They each order one and Jensen ends up eating most of the eggs on both plates while Jared inhales the potatoes. Coffee gets them both going, and freedom gives Jensen the will to reach for Jared’s hand on the table. His fingers slide over Jared’s knuckles as he gathers the nerve to talk aloud about his dreams. 

“It’s gonna sound so weird,” Jensen says quietly. “I know that. But no more secrets, I figure.”

“Right,” Jared agrees with a somber nod. He turns his hand to hold Jensen’s, watches Jensen intently. “No more secrets.”

Jensen manages a small smile at Jared’s determined support. “I’ve been dreaming about Sam and Dean.”

“Doing what?”

He shrugs awkwardly. “Just, what they’ve always done. Driving across the country, staying in shitty motels, living their lives. But not the supernatural crap. Just all the in between stuff.”

“Like what we’ve been doing,” Jared fills in with a smirk. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Driving all around in the Impala and eating shitty diner food—” A passing waitress glares at them and Jensen laughs before Jared continues, “And sleeping in shitty beds and just doing whatever.”

Jensen feels warm at having to acknowledge it, also thinks it could be from Jared’s general understanding of it. For Jared not laughing and asking a thousand other questions to make it weird. “Yeah. Just like that.”

Jared adjusts his hold on Jensen’s hand, squeezing at the end. “And you thought that was weird?”

With a tiny sigh, Jensen tries to not feel like a bigger moron. He’d been fully prepared for Jared to label him certifiably insane. “Well, yeah, I mean, I wake up sometimes thinking I’m Dean.”

“You kind of are.”

“How’s that?”

“A lot of you went into Dean, and a lot of him came out with you. I feel the same way.”

Jensen stares at Jared for a few seconds as he wonders why they’ve never talked about this before. “I didn’t know that.”

Jared sits back with a grin while grabbing his coffee for a long sip. “This is so unsurprising that I actually want to laugh at you for it. You’re such a moron and I—”

“Hey,” Jensen interrupts with a tiny flash of annoyance.

“Hey, you said no more secrets. So I can’t pretend I don’t think you’re stupid for being bothered by it.”

“Do you ever dream of them?”

Jared widens his eyes with another laugh. “Yeah, of course.”

Jensen lowers his brows as he thinks on that. Now he’s not sure why he found it so troublesome. They both spent fourteen years in that world, walking and talking and breathing as the Winchesters. It shouldn’t be so surprising that they both relive it on occasion. 

Of course, he knows Danneel never got that. His parents, either. So maybe it is pretty far out there to have these dreams to those who didn’t live it. He’s comforted to know Jared is in the same boat.

“So we’re both fucked up?” Jensen suggests.

Jared rolls his eyes with a soft chuckle. “Probably. Yeah.”

“At least it’s the both of us. If it was just me, man. I’d probably fall right back into the hole I owned the last few years.”

Jared tugs at Jensen’s hand. “Don’t you ever. That’s not the guy that I know. The one out here, you’re the one I want to have around.”

Slowly, the corner of Jensen’s mouth tips up, even as he’s overwhelmed by Jared’s insistence and the choice of words. “Yeah, of course.” They share a soft smile and Jensen feels open enough to say, “I wanna be this version for you, too.”

When he opens his eyes, he sees tattered green wallpaper like so many other hotels Sam and Dean have witnessed, but he knows it’s different this time. The most noticeable difference is the warm weight at his back and firm arms holding on. 

Jensen fades in and out of awareness as a dream materializes from the actual moment he’s living in. The vacuuming in the next room morphs into the noises of street work with machinery cleaning up cut tree branches while the sun shines brightly on a friendly suburban street. Another tree branch fall into a perfectly manicured lawn next door. This house he’s dreaming from is theirs, his and Jared’s. 

The size is laughable compared to the places they’ve owned over the years, he knows this, but he also recognizes that this is not their life. In this small, respectable bi-level, Jared and Jensen have carved out a satisfied home with salaries earned in business offices, not on television. The dining room with classic furniture is not for display only, but comes from Jared’s side of the family, an old great-aunt or great-great-grandmother who left a sweet impression on him. The living room is well lived-in with a comfy couch and love seat that can barely fit the both of them, but they never stop testing the theory. 

Here, they have mapped out a future with IRAs and shared checking accounts. Carved a spot within each of their families, who they see every Sunday for brunch, and decorated every square inch of the two floors from repeated trips to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and IKEA. It’s comfortable and homey.

Jensen knows it’s all wrong while feeling completely right. 

In a queen bed that barely fits in what is called the master bedroom, barely passing as more than a child’s room, they lie just as Jensen knows they are back in this motel room in New Mexico. Jared is wrapped around him, warm skin bleeding through thin cotton, and the soft snuffle of his breath on Jensen’s neck. 

Back in the hotel room and in their alternative world, Jensen shuffles back into Jared’s arms and smiles when Jared snorts a few breaths then adjusts himself more fully around Jensen. 

Even without words, nothing more than just the scene to witness in his dreams, Jensen knows that home is more for him and Jared than they have ever had, or could ever have. In their realities, quiet domesticity is impossible, not when they both have the Winchesters hiding behind their own emotions. And especially not when there are other people relying on them to be better men, fathers, friends. 

Jensen can’t imagine how to traverse the mess of the real world or how to find his way to the finish line, one like this dream home. He knows he wouldn’t mind stumbling though, the blind leading the blind with Jared standing right beside him. And he thinks it’s a possibility when Jared squeezes around his waist and kisses his shoulder with a soft hum.

Jensen takes the wheel through most of New Mexico, following signs to the Norman Petty Recording Studios and gets them a tour of the place where Buddy Holly recorded his early hits. In the padded room where the music was made, Jensen quietly sings “Every day, it's a-gettin' closer, goin' faster than a roller coaster, love like yours will surely come my way.”

Jared softly smiles and cups the back of Jensen’s head. His fingers scratch along Jensen’s scalp before he lightly pushes him away, mumbling, “big ole sap,” then slides around him to check out the mixing board. 

“It was one of my mom’s favorites,” Jensen lamely argues, yet can’t hold in the nervous energy from Jared’s sly look or secret smile that says more than what an outsider would pick up

Most things fly by in a whirl, even as Jensen does his best to catalog it all. He declares lunch at the Pie-O-Neer Café in Pie Town, in honor of Dean after all, while Jared takes them on a detour or two for more Michelin Men. West of El Malpais they find Inscription Rock and admire the sandstone cliffs that rise over two hundred feet, decorated in a flurry of graffiti. Before they know it, the sun’s heading down and they’ve hit Gallup, one of the last real stops in the state. Per Jared’s road trip research, they stay the night in El Rancho, a place from the 1930s that has been preserved just as it was that many decades ago. 

Time is spent in the hotel restaurant then in the gift shop and Jensen picks up a few pieces of local jewelry featuring stones he hasn’t often seen with his own eyes. Most of them are for JJ, but he thinks long enough to grab a bright turquoise piece Danneel would appreciate. He even picks up a large-barreled cowboy hat and sets it atop Jared’s head. 

“It’s yours,” Jensen decrees.

Jared tilts his head to see himself in a small mirror on the jewelry case. “It’s obnoxious.”

“Exactly.” When Jared spins around to glare, Jensen winks. “C’mon, darlin’, I got more presents for you back in the room.”

“You sure?” Jared asks with wide eyes. Chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon and now has to climb eighty stories of stairs. 

Jensen slides up, sits back against the headboard, and searches Jared’s face. “Is that not … do you … I mean—”

“I definitely want to,” he rushes to answer then takes another deep breath. “If that’s what you were going to ask? Then that’s my answer. I do. I just was making sure, for you, that you’re into that.”

He wants to take this seriously, yet there’s always that sliver of him that will do anything to dig into Jared to make laugh. “Am I into sex?”

“Shut up.”

Jensen smirks and continues on. “Fucking around and orgasms, oh no, keep them far away from me. And stay away from my dick while you’re at it.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Jared insists while tugging Jensen back down on the bed. He hovers over him with playful annoyance in his eyes and in his smile, all while leaning closer to nip at Jensen’s lips. 

“Don’t kiss me either,” he argues, even while he meets Jared’s lips every time they reach for him, “I absolutely hate that, totally uninterested.”

Jared reaches between them and palms Jensen’s dick, rubs with an infuriatingly light touch and equally frustratingly slow rhythm. It’s enough, though, and Jensen grows hard in seconds. Now that the spark has been lit, Jensen finds it hard to avoid popping wood when Jared flashes him any number of looks. Including the one right now that is mischievous and daring in a way Jensen hasn’t seen in a very, very, _very_ long time.

“Yeah, you’re totally uninterested,” Jared murmurs. 

He suddenly breaks out laughing with surprise of how much he’s enjoying the moment and Jared’s liveliness. They share a smile and Jensen decides to watch Jared’s face all while this goes on, instead of shutting his eyes and falling into the emotions. He wants to witness—and experience it—right along with Jared to prove to them both that this is real.

So they keep eye contact as Jared drops kisses at his lips, enough for care but not distracting from the steadying pressure Jared now rubs Jensen with. 

“You want to see just how uninterested I am?” Jensen offers with a smirk. 

Jared takes the cue without a word and works at Jensen’s jeans, pulls them down with Jensen lifting his hips and legs from of his pants and underwear, then Jared helps Jensen out of his shirt. Taking his time, he admires every inch of Jensen’s body, slow, gentle fingers drawing over prickly skin, the air conditioning managing to do its job tonight. 

Jensen holds his breath as he watches Jared admire the length of his naked body. Licking the corner of his mouth, he contemplates his words, fearing to break the moment. 

Luckily, Jared interrupts the silence. “If this is you uninterested? _Mmm_ , I’m in luck when you totally are.”

It is probably meant to be absolutely seductive, but Jared’s innocent face and bright eyes grounds Jensen back into what’s happening here. And he’s far too excited to start worrying over logistics. He’d done this before. A few times over his lifetime. He understands how all the pieces go together, knows it can feel far more than amazing with the right person, and he’s absolutely certain Jared is just that. 

So he leans back comfortably then tells Jared what to do, just to keep them both moving forward. A little lube, some soft pushing, take the time, and then rinse, repeat. Jared parrots every word like he’ll do it wrong if he doesn’t, and Jensen has never been fonder of him.

Especially when Jared crooks the tip of his finger just an inch or so inside and hits an incredibly sensitive spot. “Oh fuck, Jared!” he cries out, legs widening for more. 

Jared stills. “What? Was that wrong?”

“No, no, absolutely not wrong,” Jensen huffs with a laugh. “So very not wrong. It’s all the way right.”

“Okay, okay,” he says quickly, maybe more to himself, then does it again. 

Jensen can’t catch his breath when Jared repeatedly gets it right. He’s panting and kicking his head back on the mattress, ignoring how scratchy the cheap linens are. That’s not what’s important here; his brain is far too focused on the fireworks blazing beneath his skin. 

He watches Jared’s bare chest with the muscles bulging with his effort to lean up on one hand while the other works Jensen open. 

“Okay, yeah,” Jensen insists once Jared’s got two fingers working steadily. “I think it’s good.”

“You think?” Jared laughs. 

“Just get in me, already?”

Jared leans in for a kiss. “You hang on there, babe,” he whispers.

It burns to stretch even wider, but Jensen admires the strength in Jared’s body as he hovers above and slowly rocks in and out until they find an easy rhythm. 

“Holy fuck,” Jared pants, “So tight, so, so very tight.”

Jensen bolsters his hands against the wall for leverage and rocks down with Jared’s thrusts, relishing the sweaty slap of their skin together. “C’mon Jared, keep it going, just like that.” Hot air comes out in loud puffs in between his words and he lets painful sounds out of his bitten lips as Jared picks up speed and they’re finally meeting each other in long strokes. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” Jared whines and drops his head down next to Jensen’s. Seconds later, he bites into the column of Jensen’s neck and whimpers as he comes. Through the stinging pain of Jared’s teeth still locked in, Jensen jacks himself off. He doesn’t need much, already near the edge and dying for release. 

After, Jensen rests his hands on Jared’s back, rubs long paths up and down the center dip as they both catch their breath. “You okay there?”

“Wow.”

He turns his head to look at Jared, still with his face hidden in Jensen’s shoulder. “That’s it? ‘Wow’?”

His words are muffled against Jensen’s skin, nearly tickling really. “It’s a very enthusiastic wow. Believe it or not.”

“Oh really?”

“I just don’t have the energy to properly applaud you and your body.”

Jensen laughs and rings a leg over Jared’s. “That’s fair.”

The warm afterglow hangs around in the morning, and all the way through Arizona. Holbrook gives them the Wigwam Village, where they check out a bunch of tourist traps, the Navajo County Historical Museum, and end the night sleeping in a concrete teepee at the Wigwam Village Motel #6. 

Throughout their strolls, Jensen reaches for Jared’s hand and smiles when folks recognize them—not for the people they used to be, but simply as two guys happily standing together. 

Jared pulls away to check his ringing phone—a movement Jensen had nearly forgotten about in the haze of them discovering one another these last few days. This time, Jared answers it, moving away so quickly that Jensen can’t even hear the greeting. Still, he knows it’s Gen. 

His stomach twists with guilt even when he knows they’re separated. Jared said she’s been seeing someone else, that they’re a lost cause. Doesn’t mean Jensen doesn’t have a shred of dignity to understand it’s still a cloudy situation to be stuck in the middle of. 

Jensen stands alone in the gift shop, wasting time by checking out all the cheesy merchandise a few times over. Finally, he texts Jared to meet back at the room and settles in for the night.

Jared comes through the door like he hasn’t been out of pocket for nearly an hour. 

Turning off the TV, Jensen sits up in the small bed. “So what’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just the kids saying hi.”

Jensen can read more in Jared’s shut-off demeanor, yet decides to let it stay untouched. 

“Anything good on?” Jared asks as he drops down into what little room is left on the bed next to Jensen. 

It’s one of the smallest places they’ve stayed. So small, in fact, that the beds are too thin to hold the both of them. 

The place claims its sleeps four in two queen beds, yet Jared knocks Jensen around with sharp elbows and long, unsteady legs that can’t find a comfortable place to rest. Jensen eventually moves to the other mattress, though he longs for the heat of Jared’s body wrapped around him. It helps Jensen to sleep through the night without Jared tossing and turning into him, but Jared looks worn out in the morning. And stays quiet mostly. To himself. Drinks coffee with just a few sounds aimed Jensen’s way, and keeps his sunglasses down while slinking down low in the passenger seat. 

Jensen didn’t realize it was the beginning of the storm, because just west of Mesa Verde, everything falls apart.

“No, no, no, no,” Jensen chants and continues to in his mind even as he hears Jared asking what’s wrong. 

The Impala stops running. Her motor just peters out as Jensen directs her to the gravel shoulder with what little momentum she’s got left. 

“What happened?” Jared asks slowly.

Jensen has no idea, other than a shitload of lights had turned on across the dash. They’re not on anymore, but that’s because the car herself isn’t. And she won’t turn over when Jensen tries the ignition over and over and over. 

Everything is quiet. Too quiet, because the car’s not even making a noise when he tries the key half a dozen times again. 

“What happened?” Jared asks again.

Jensen can’t answer because he doesn’t know. And because they’re out in the middle of nowhere California now and Jared’s complaining about cell service. 

“Just shut up for a second,” Jensen barks as jumps out of the car to look under the hood. 

Once the front is open, a cloud of smoke billows up and they’re both coughing around it. 

“Well, this looks good,” Jared complains. 

“Yeah, I can see that, Jared,” Jensen spits back.

Just as fast as the Impala broke down, so does everything else. Jensen’s aware that they’re arguing, yet he can’t remember the words once they’re out of his mouth. Things like “Calm the fuck down, princess,” and “As if you’d know anything about cars either, dumbass.”

Jared fights back with a strong fire and eventually lobs off a few tastefully constructed attacks about how they wouldn’t even be out here if Jensen wasn’t losing his mind in his quest for Dean Winchester. 

Jensen knows they’re tired. They’re baking under the warm California sun and have been dying to eat for a few hours now. Jensen had been convinced they should find another back-alley joint to rest in and so here they are. Far from back-alley, and far from safe with dirt and wasted grass all around them and not a car in sight. 

Everything is foggy in Jensen’s head. He can hear Jared ranting and raving, even sees him kick one of the tires, but everything is distant. Including his own words because he suddenly says, “Then fuck off already.”

Now he’s fully aware of Jared’s glare and the way his nostrils flare and his chest rises and falls dramatically. He can hear the tense silence between them as they both wait for this to blow over, for one of them to say the right words to bring them back to yesterday morning when they woke up with lazy smiles and an extra hour in bed. 

“Jared, c’mon,” Jensen insists as Jared grabs his duffel from the trunk. “What’re you gonna do? March across the desert? Hitchhike?”

Jared rolls his eyes and rings the bag over his shoulder. “Not like you got any answers there, huh princess?”

“What do you want?” Jensen shouts. He knows there’s more buried beneath the surface of this argument and he’s unsure of what it really is. Or, at least, he hopes it’s not what he thinks it is. 

“I want to go home. I want to see my kids and just fucking sleep, okay? Sit on a real couch and watch some real TV, is that so much to ask?”

“So what? You’re just done with all this?”

“I’m done with Route 66, yeah!” he yells, shocking Jensen down to his toes. “Because this was ridiculous. Just some dumb daydream you’re living out for your mid-life crisis. And you dragged me along with you.”

“Didn’t take much convincing now did it?” he argues while staring right back at Jared. 

It takes a few more moments for Jared’s anger to deflate along with the strength in his voice. “I’m tired. I want to be home.”

Jensen recognizes those words. Heard them quite a few times back when life was far more chaotic than the last two weeks have been. It had taken a while for Jensen to realize just what those two sentences really meant for Jared; they were his signal that he was at the end of his rope. So many times the words were said too late, far beyond when he had originally thought them, but they always meant the same thing: Jared was mentally done and had to stop to take care of himself. 

In the most unselfish way Jensen can, he nods and accepts the two sentences as what they are. Jared’s exit. 

They stare at each other for a few more seconds before Jensen clears his throat and looks away. “Will you at least hang around ‘til we can get somewhere safe? I’ll go with you or whatever, just don’t go walking out into sand traps all by yourself.”

The sight of Jared’s flushed face and wet eyes makes Jensen want to cry as well. He hates that Jared has been pushed to this point, hates himself for being a part of that, when all he wanted was to have Jared. He could ditch the road and even the Impala if it meant they rewound the last twenty-four hours. Went back to just before Jared answered that call and dug himself back into a hole. 

A thousand other guilty thoughts ravage him as they walk a few miles south. Maybe he should have asked Jared more about his phone call. Or stayed in bed with Jared no matter how uncomfortable it was. Perhaps they should have stayed back in Arizona, never crossed the Colorado River, and avoided running the Impala too hard.

The bags are lighter with just a few essentials and one change of clothes, but everything weighs him down all the same. And his limbs are heavy when they finally reach a rest stop and he has to say goodbye. With wifi and cell service, Jared’s called a car to pick him up and Jensen’s reached a towing company to get the Impala. 

“Are you staying … or?” Jared asks once they’re both off the phone. 

He wants to, so very much is dying to, but also fears standing to close too Jared as they both have sort out a thousand feelings. “I should stay with the car.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jared nods, but everything is hollow right now. 

Especially when Jared’s ride arrives and they share a hug goodbye. As Jensen pulls back, Jared tugs him in tighter, kisses his ear before he pulls away with a quiet, “Okay, bye.”

Jensen stays rooted to the ground as he watches the town car pull away, disappearing from sight long before Jensen bothers to move.

The time and cost to fix the Impala are atrocious. Jensen is shell-shocked at the story of all that’s wrong with her. 

“I can’t believe you rode her this long to be honest,” the mechanic says with a hoarse voice. He coughs hard and Jensen thinks dust comes out of the old man’s pores. “Most of her innards are all dried up.”

“Figures,” he grumbles just before making arrangements to have the car transported back to Louisiana instead. Then he buys a flight back home and texts Jared all the information. 

**If you haven’t left already. Meet me at the airport and we’ll go back together.**

After a beat, he adds, **I’d really like that**

**To see you again**

All while he holds his breath for a reply, he’s not quite surprised one never comes.

The security line at LA/Ontario is atrocious. The airport is smaller than one would think for being close to the big city and the speed of the TSA regulations shows it. Jensen waits nearly an hour to get to one of two stations to unleash his baggage for screening. 

He thinks there's something ironic about that, having left behind the life that gave him spirit and some semblance of meaning. Left behind for the second time, his bitterness unhelpfully adds. 

As he watches his belongings move down the belt, being sucked into the scanning station for someone to nose their way through, he thinks about what TSA would see in his other set of baggage. 

A stagnant career that tore out a piece of Jensen the moment he walked off set for the last time. A failing report card as a father who was hardly around as his daughter grew up to be as headstrong as her mother, but with a whole new host of attachment issues. _Way to go, Dad_. 

A midlife crisis that tore across the Midwest and can boast sights of the world's largest ketchup bottle and the sight where Abraham Lincoln ate watermelon. A detached personality that no longer attempts to make connections or even revive the ones they have slid to the side of life as everything else passed him by. 

And a second relationship left on the shoulder thanks to his attachment to Dean Winchester. Watching Jared walk away at that darkened rest stop was harder than the day Danneel tossed a bag over one shoulder and heaved JJ up against the other with a sad smile that told him she felt sorry for him and his twisted up brain that couldn't make room enough for everyone in his life. 

Once Jared was snug beside him, Jensen had thought he’d gotten over that complication. But then their tempers got the best of them, along with the realities of life. It all nearly split Jensen in two, as he now recognizes the fact that no matter how hard he works at it, he can't have everything. Danneel proved that to him a decade ago. Jensen figures he's just hard-headed enough to have to life through the lesson twice now with the two most important people he's had in his world. 

But Jared. Jared was the one who got it, who felt it just as deeply in his bones, that for all their faults, the Winchesters lived the American Dream greater than the Ackles or Padaleckis ever could. 

On the road, Jensen found freedom and the space to stretch with no obligations on the schedule. He found the sunlight that had always illuminated his way and eased the smile on his face. And he found the chance to embrace love, maybe the one real love he's ever had in Jared. 

As he steps into the X-ray machine and holds his hands above his head, he wonders what that machine will read of his body. Loose muscles from longs days wandering back roads, or a tangled mind that's back its fitful worries, or an empty chest where his heart had beat wildly for the last two weeks for the one person who really gets him. 

With all the worry swirling around his brain, he's a little surprised when the TSA agent, filled to the brim with boredom, summons him out of the machine, onto the black mat with yellow footprints, then releases him with an unenthusiastic "You're good. Thank you."

In an airport this small, and this many years removed from Supernatural, Jensen has no qualms about hauling his things right to the gate. His ball cap hides enough of his head, at least the parts his beard can't mask, and assumes the same self-absorbed disposition as the rest of the travelers around him. 

He sets his backpack next to him as he takes a seat against the windows, keeping his back to the plane that will dump him back in his old pathetic state. His phone does little to distract him from the impending anxiety of returning to a life he's been trying to escape for the last ten years. 

"Do you mind?" asks a voice above him. 

Jensen thinks of twisting up and away to avoid human interaction, but reconsiders given how small and guilty that voice had sounded. And as he brings his eyes up from his phone, he recognizes the pitch black running shoes hidden beneath faded, loose denim he had in his hands just a few nights ago. 

Carefully breaking a smile, Jensen looks up to Jared's guarded, careful, yet wet and shiny eyes. Jensen suddenly feels his own eyes dampen the same way as he snatches his bag from the seat beside him and dumps it at his feet. 

Neither say anything for a while. Jared sits and Jensen watches, waits, holds his breath for Jared's first real words. 

"I'm scared," Jared admits quietly. 

Jensen's chest tightens, along with his throat, which makes replying difficult. "I know," he manages to squeak out. 

"I'm scared and I'm tired and I'm lost. I don't know what I'm doing half the time. Or why. But I couldn't go home. Not yet." 

He etches the shape of Jared's profile into his permanent memory bank and holds his breath so he doesn't break this moment. 

"But I'm scared."

"I know," Jensen repeats. 

"I'm scared of my life changing, and what'll happen with the kids, and starting over again. And I'm scared I've fucked all of this up." At that, he finally looks at Jensen, who feels his heart piece itself together as he slides his hand into Jared's. 

Jensen thinks, _knows_ , that isn’t the case, and he figures if he can survive his marriage breaking up and becoming a second-hand father to a girl who’s owned half his heart for a third of his life, then Jared can, too. Especially if Jensen stays right beside him. "You haven't,” Jensen whispers, while staring ahead, fearful to look at Jared. Because maybe Jared isn’t ready for that, facing the reality of what’s happened between them. “Fucked this up, I mean. Because it's always been us, right?"

Jared’s only response is a frighteningly loud inhale. It forces Jensen to take a quick glance, and he’s unsure how he feels about Jared’s face all tight and pinched with worry. 

He looks straight ahead before attempting to make Jared feel better, and like he’s got company in this mess. “ _I_ fucked up. A long time ago, many times. And somehow I’ve survived. I somehow picked myself up and put it all back together - ”

“While living in twenty-dollar-a-night hotels.”

“They were thirty, thank you very much.” From the corner of his eye, Jensen sees Jared smile a little. Barely there, just it’s enough to crease his cheek with a tiny dimple. Jensen smiles, too. “So I fucked up and survived and here I am now, sitting next to you.”

“Doesn’t sound like a positive.”

Now Jensen forces himself to face Jared and gather his attention. Leans closer so he can talk with more conviction without raising his voice. “So I’m sitting next to you after spending two weeks together that were like heaven. Those three weeks were just as crazy and stupid and … and the best stupid crazy thing I’ve done in a long time. Not since I first went up to Vancouver to start our dumb little show.”

Jared turns a fraction towards him, making his thinking face with his eyes darting around. Then his mouth tips up in one corner, half-grimace, half-amused. “It wasn’t dumb.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Jensen clears his throat to finally lay it all out. “None of it was. Not then, not at the end of fourteen seasons. And definitely not now.”

Clearing his throat, Jared leans back in the seat and stretches his legs forward. Jensen does the same, his muscles rigid with nerves keeping him from fully relaxing until he gets the all clear from the man beside him. The one who always had a spot right here. 

And Jensen wonders if this really is all that he’s needed over the last decade. That maybe it didn’t matter what exactly happened to him along the way, so long as Jared was sitting shotgun. He’d pushed his best friend and family and other folks away when Danneel and JJ left. But never considered what exactly he had waiting for him. And maybe that’s where Jared is right now: on the precipice of that push-pull decision, weighing the opportunities that lie ahead. 

Jensen wants to be in the _yes_ basket. Wants nothing more than to be right alongside Jared when everything crumbles, and when Jared’s a shattered mess, and words don’t matter or heal. Jensen just wants to be here. 

And Jensen finally recognizes that he found himself again on the road, but it’s his drive that’s been recovered in this greyed-out airport gate. 

With a deep breath held tight in his chest, Jensen brings his hand up from his lap. Slowly, as to not scare Jared off, he sets his palm over the back of Jared’s hand. He can’t let go of his breath until Jared turns his hand over so their palms are tucked tight and fingers twine together. 

Jensen shuts his eyes tight and smiles at the heat of Jared’s hand in his. 

“This isn’t dumb either,” Jared murmurs. “Or crazy.” Then his voice cracks when he asks, “It’s not, right?”

“No, not crazy or dumb at all.” He clenches their hands together and drags in another deep breath to ease himself, yet finds himself more light headed than before. 

“So where do we end up? Louisiana? Or Austin?”

“Why not both?” Jensen offers. He’s not even sure how that would work, splitting time between two states, but he knows he wants to try. “A little of each, you know? We visit each other a lot, stick around for the kids, be back in their lives and all that.”

“You think that would work?”

“It’s gotta be better than what we were doing.” Jensen flexes his hand against Jared’s, drags his knuckles against every one of Jared’s before holding tight again. “I have faith in you. In us.”

“What about in yourself?” Jared asks with a sad look. 

“You make me believe that I’m a better person,” Jensen says quietly, steadily looking right into Jared’s eyes. “You make me better.”

Jared blinks away tears, shakily smiles. “Let’s do this then. The swampy south could do me some good.”

“It’ll be shit on your hair.”

“Will you love me any less?”

“Absolutely not.”


	6. Epilogue

“Is it cool yet?” Jensen asks as he steps into the garage. 

Leaning over the Impala’s innards, JJ touches the engine. She makes a face and pitches a shoulder up. “It’s cool.”

In the best father look and voice possible, he checks, “Are you sure?” 

“It is!” Then a moment later, “Ish.”

“Ish?” He glares at her until she cracks a devilish smile and her freckled cheeks turn pink. “Well the next time you ask if the pool’s ready, I guess the answer is … _ish_.”

In all of her teenage glory, she huffs, rolls her eyes, and turns back to the car. “The engine is cool and I was going to take off the radiator cap.”

Jensen sets his items down on the work bench beside them – a drip pan, rags, water, along with a few cold bottles of beer for himself. “And why do we take off the radiator cap?” he tests her.

As if reciting it from a text book, she replies, “to release pressure on the cooling system and to avoid creating a vacuum when you drain it.”

He kisses the side of her head then hands over a water bottle. “That’s my girl. Now what’s next?”

She slowly reaches forward to do precisely what she’s saying. “I squeeze the radiator hose to make sure it’s clean.”

Now he leans in with her, grabbing hold of the right side of the hose while she checks the other. “If it crunches then it could be rust, and then we’re in trouble.”

“Like real bad trouble?”

“Well, trouble … ish,” he jokes then winks at her. She sighs and rolls her eyes again, but she’s still listening to him. “We’d flush it out then put in new coolant.”

“I don’t feel anything.”

“Neither do I. So onto the next thing.” He hands her the drip pan. “We have to drain the coolant.”

“Right,” she nods, “from the petcock.”

“The what now?” Jared asks from the doorway, making his presence known in a most inappropriate manner.

“The petcock,” JJ answers with a grin. Jensen hopes she’s smiling for Jared’s visit and not so much the dirty joke that he won’t touch. Not when his daughter’s here.

“Watch yourself, Padalecki,” Jensen warns, but it’s too late. 

JJ hurries over and launches herself into Jared’s arms with a happy cry. “Uncle Jared! You’re just in time.”

He kisses her on the top of the head then settles her back on her feet. “Time for what, pumpkin?”

“For Dad to boss us around.”

Jensen glares. “I was not bossing you around.”

“Ish,” JJ shrugs. 

Jensen grabs a rag to wipe his hands from any grime he’s already picked up. Doesn’t bother offering one to JJ because she’s already gotten a swipe of grease on Jared’s cheek, and he’s rather amused that no one else has noticed yet. “So what? You wanna do it yourself?” he offers her with a grand motion of his hand over the car. “Be my guest.”

“What’re you fixing?” Jared asks before smirking. “Besides the petcock?”

 _Stop it_ Jensen mouths as JJ and Jared approach the car, Jared blowing him a kiss in return. 

“We’re replacing the radiator,” she explains. “But first we have to drain and flush the cooling system.”

“Sounds like tough work. You sure you got it?”

Jensen settles in next to Jared, comforted by the casual way Jared rests his elbow on Jensen’s shoulder as he continues talking to JJ. And he’s wholly impressed by his daughter counting off the next few steps they’d planned. It’s becoming more and more obvious that she did actually read the manual he’d shown her the day before, even when she’d originally tossed it onto her bed without a second glance.

He drifts back to the present with JJ working on disconnecting the radiator hose, telling Jared she wants to learn how to drive in the Impala. 

“Uhhh,” Jensen awkwardly laughs, “We’ll see about that.”

“You said I could when we take our road trip.”

“Where you going?” Jared asks.

JJ smiles proudly. “Arizona.”

“Oh yeah? Your dad and I went there.”

“To the Petrified Forest?”

“I don’t think so?” Jared asks while looking at Jensen, who shakes his head. 

“Carlsbad caverns?”

”Uh, no.”

“Grand Canyon,” she tries.

Now Jared smiles at him. “You don’t say.”

Jensen shrugs while trying to hide his own smile. “It was her idea.”

“Dad said he’s never been there, which seemed stupid with that giant photo on his wall.”

Jared nods, still while watching Jensen. “Does seem pretty stupid.”

“And he said you’d never been there either,” she says while distracted with the stuck radiator hose.

“I haven’t. Always meant to”

“And I agreed,” Jensen says before clearing his throat. “I mean, what’s the point of the Great American road trip if you never see the Grand Canyon?”

He can’t describe the look on Jared’s face, but he’s pretty sure it’s the same as his own. A cross between giddy and charmed and disbelieving in the most loving way possible.

“Yeah,” Jared says on a rough voice then clears his throat. “What’s the point?”

Jensen has to clear his throat, too, and wills away the emotion building up right here, even when JJ has no clue what kind of avalanche she’s started. The day before, while putting up a few framed photos from the Route 66 trip, JJ had mentioned the portrait in his bedroom. He’d thought it was all so random, a throw-away conversation.

And yet, here he is, dying to ask Jared: “So … you wanna join us?”

Jared blinks away a tear or two and sets his forehead to Jensen’s. “Absofuckinglutely.”

Now he grins and steps up on his tip toes to kiss Jared a proper _hello_ , _thank you_ , and _love you_ that he had planned to bypass with JJ there. 

“Oh,” she says softly. “Wow.”

Jared mumbles, “You didn’t tell her yet.”

“I didn’t tell her, no,” he replies, and thankfully doesn’t really have to.

She goes on to ask, “So, are you, like, together now?”

Jensen and Jared share a look until Jensen shrugs and makes a face. “Ish?”

“Does this mean I get double the shopping allowance?”

He's broken from the nerves of explaining everything to her and playfully complains instead. “Just shut up and disconnect the transmission line.”

“Yes sir,” she lazily salutes and gets back to work with Jensen and Jared overseeing her. 

Jensen flashes back to a series of _yes, sir_ s tossed out for John Winchester and he has the feeling Jared is sensing the same given the odd look in his eyes. 

“This is all kind of crazy,” Jared whispers. 

“Well, we are kind of crazy,” Jensen offers. 

Jared rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Shut up.”

Now Jensen grins at Jared. “Jerk.”

“Don’t you even ...”

He doesn’t. He just winks and saves it for a rainy day.

  


**THE END ...**

_for now_   



End file.
